Breathe
by Asfaloth-Sekhmet
Summary: Eleanor has a gift that everyone needs, but ironically enough she can't even use it for herself. She knows that Sky High might be able to help her, but she isn't expecting a certain hothead to be. Trigger Warning - Abuse. Warren/OC
1. September

**September**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything or anyone besides Eleanor, her mother and Mike! Enjoy :)**

The first thing that woke me up in the morning on the 8th of September was the shrill screech of my mother, and the first thing that got me out of bed was the distinct sound of shattering glass. It was unfortunately often that my stepfather got too inebriated and decided to extract his revenge upon the few pieces of glassware we had, but this morning of all mornings had to be the least acceptable. It was my first day of school at the famous Sky High, and both my mother and Mike had kept me up all of last night because of the yelling. I had gone downstairs at least twenty times after hearing the volume peak way over the acceptable level in the neighborhood – even though that level was already incredibly high because of the terrible area – and had only been yelled at to get back to bed and shut up. It was frustrating living with Mike; both he and my mother didn't have the educational capacity to find real jobs, so my mother worked in a coffee shop a couple blocks away whilst Mike sat around drinking his miserable ass off each day and collected welfare checks. They both had alcohol problems, resulting in physical and emotional abuse from their side. Mike abused us, and it was killing me inside.

I was a healer – my mutation granted me the ability to regenerate and fix the wounds of others – but amazingly enough when I discovered my powers I also found that they didn't work on my own body. It was excruciatingly frustrating and somehow logical at the same time. My body rejected it's own healing tactics because my genetic makeup believed it to be perfectly fine on it's own. I had tried many times after receiving punches and kicks from Mike, but it had resulted in tears each time. It was completely unfair; I was the only person I knew who needed my powers the most, and yet I wasn't capable of using them. It drove me to tears each night, and I thought about ending my life many times. Being the victim of a broken family life from the start after my father had an affair with another woman, it was hard to look at the positive when my mother brought Mike home one evening and made it clear that he would be my new dad. The abuse started months later, after my mother's alcohol problems became more prominent and she got more and more lax on my safety. It got to the point where I could spend weeks out of the house and upon my arrival back be greeted with the same argument from days ago. They didn't care; but I couldn't bring myself to phone the police or talk to any authoritative figure. I was caught in a vicious cycle.

I sighed, pulling on the cleanest pair of skinny jeans I could find, and lacing up my old combat boots. It was only until I scraped together some change that I could go wash my clothing at the laundromat nearby, so unfortunately I didn't have too many clean clothes for my first day of school. I was entering my junior year at Sky High, and had gone through the registration process myself and barely managed to get my mother's signature without a black eye from Mike, but I had done it and was now entering in my first year. It was bound to be different than all of my other years at regular high school; I was told off of the pamphlet that there would be plenty of classes to help me gain more knowledge on supers and to help me develop my powers to the best of my ability. I knew a lot about heroes because of the news – TV was very focused on the way that these mutants helped our community fight against their evil kind who wanted to plunder and take advantage of the humans of the planet, so I had become very educated on the miraculous powers that were out there and the good that they were used for.

Something I hadn't been educated on, however, was the school bus. I wasn't exactly sure how the hell a bus was going to get us miles up into the sky where the school was held on a solid piece of floating land – when I had gone into the registration office down on earth's surface and heard that the school was suspended in midair it caused a giant shock – but I was willing to try out their preferred means of transportation. I basically ran out of our little shabby house after Mike threw a tray at me, and did my best to cover up my black eye that he had given me last week with makeup on my way to the bus stop. It was unfortunately placed a neighborhood away from my house, meaning that I would have to wake up early each morning to get to where the bus would depart, but perhaps this meant I could avoid Mike and his early morning hungover rage. I waited apprehensively at the bus stop minutes later, praying to the skies that there would be some kind of magical way to teleport us all up there without having to get involved in any dangerous situation whatsoever.

Naturally, my wish was not granted. At first everything seemed fine when the bus rolled to it's stop – the bus driver gave me a suspicious one over, asked for my name and then nodded me off to join the twenty other normal looking kids sitting on the bus. But when he collected the last of us and began to drive towards a large bridge, I began to worry. The last thing I was expecting was for the bus to head straight towards the ramp labeled 'under construction', and drive straight off of it. Myself and the other twenty-something students on the bus screamed for our lives as the vehicle plummeted towards the earth for several hundred feet, and then engaged some kind of exterior engine that sent us flying through the air faster than any roller coaster I had been on. It was terrifying for the first twenty seconds as the bus driver tortured us by doing barrel rolls, and I could almost feel my eyes starting to roll to the back of my head until he took mercy and leveled the vehicle out. I looked out my window, still clutching the seat in front of me in shock, and found that two giant yellow wings – matching the hideous color of the bus – had sprouted from either sides of it.

I tried to control my breathing, but it was difficult when we were still barreling through the sky at speeds that school buses were definitely not intended to reach – although I doubted that I could just call this a plain old school bus anymore. It wasn't long before Sky High came into view, floating majestically and causing the students to look out the window in awe.

"There she is!" The bus driver called so that all of the students could hear him. "Sky High; kept aloft by the latest in antigravitational propulsion. She is in constant motion as a precaution against those who otherwise might have nefarious plans. Her location is supplied only to a handful of qualified individuals such as myself – Ron Wilson: bus driver."

Before he came into landing he explained that anyone else not entering in their freshman year should find the main office to retrieve their schedules, as power placement would occur privately as well. Hearing this, I made sure that my first move as I got off the bus was to detach myself from the obvious group of freshmen and make my way across the freshly cut grass towards the large school. It was beautiful; there were many pillars and from windows of glass as well as sculptures obviously depicting heroes saving the earth all around the front lawn. There were students arriving from every direction; more buses were landing, people were flying and teleporting out of nowhere – this seemed to be a normal occurrence so I set my eyes forwards and tried to get used to it for the time being. After several confusing long winding hallways, I managed to find the main office and request my schedule to the receptionist. I seemed to be the only one in the office so far – I hoped that there would at least be one new student in my junior year so that I wouldn't be so alone.

"Principle Powers would like to see you before I give you your class schedule," The receptionist smiled, her gray eyes twinkling as she motioned towards a door on the far right. "Go right ahead."

"Oh?" I gave her a weird glance at first, but then obeyed her instructions and knocked on the door. "Thank you."

I let myself in after hearing a brief 'come in' from the other side, and was greeted with a woman clad head to toe in white. Her hair and nails were done to perfection, and despite the giant amounts of red lipstick on her skin she flashed me a smile showing perfect pearly whites. I walked forward to shake her hand, and when I did her smile seemed to get brighter.

"It's nice to meet you Eleanor," She began, sitting back in her chair. "Your registration file was very unique. We get a lot of students at this school but you are the first of your kind."

"There's never been a regenerator here?" My eyebrows flew up. Was I truly that alone? "Or anyone like me?"

"No," Principle Powers shook her head. "We are very excited to be working with you and want to provide you with the best support as possible – since you can't necessarily show me your power I entrust in you that it is the only ability you have and that you didn't keep anything else off of your file. It's important that we know all of your skills so that we can best assist you. You've already been pre-placed into hero-class because of your abilities."

"H-hero class?" I stuttered, unsure of this categorization.

"Yes," She nodded. "We have two classes. Hero and hero-support. Hero-support focuses more on the kids who's powers will not allow them to operate as independent supers. There is a program which allows them to be paired with an equally willing hero to form a team, but the hero-support kids are classified as not having the ability to operate on their own. Hero, on the other hand, prepares the kids with more independent battle strategies and focuses them on learning to become independent fighters."

The whole process seemed very fascist and dichotomized to me, but I instead chose to question about future plans instead. "So we all have to become superheroes?"

"Not all of you," Her eyes regarded me carefully. "Everyone has the option to attend a regular university and become a normal citizen – many of our graduates have used their powers to contribute fantastically towards the human race in many different fields of study. I understand why you would be interested."

I nodded slightly, wondering if my powers could somehow put doctors out of a job. I wasn't even immune to diseases or infections myself – how the hell was I supposed to cure Ebola patients if my own body caught the disease? It was a very complicated field and I needed to learn more before exploring. If only my powers had manifested earlier, perhaps I would have had a better time span to wrap my head around these concepts. As if reading my mind, Principle Powers interrupted my thought process.

"There is still time to learn, Eleanor," She assured, brown eyes shining. "You have a lot of options and a lot of people willing to help you. The staff here will try and make your journey as easy as it can be."

I nearly snorted; high school hadn't been easy before, so adding powers and some clearly limiting classification to it definitely wasn't going to make it easier. I could almost see heroes shoving sidekicks into lockers by now. This whole thing nearly made my head reel, but I kept my composure and shot a nervous smile towards Principle Powers, thanking her and heading back to the receptionist. I was given my schedule and a map of the school, and witnessed another new student being shown into Power's office. As I had guessed – every new kid probably got the speech from her.

I ventured out of the office to try and find my first class – History of Heroes. I nearly cringed at the title, but managed to push myself down the hall and followed the map to get to room 200. What greeted me was a class full of perfectly normal looking students and a teacher with eyes glowing pure white. No pupils – no other signs of deformity besides the pure white. I almost blanched before I managed to approach him and give him my schedule, meekly claiming that I was a new student. He accepted it with a smile, obviously being able to read it despite his lack of pupils, and instructed me to sit wherever a seat was available. I took an empty desk at the back and began to take the introductory notes to the course. I had been informed on the Sky High informational pamphlet – lost somewhere in the black hole that was my room - that many of these courses I was taking didn't require a lot of background knowledge, so to make it easier for students entering in separate years. There was also the fact that none of these courses remotely resembled normal high school courses besides Math and English.

I located my locker after the next two classes – English and Hero strategies – and found that it had already been filled with all of the textbooks I would need for my classes. By this time it was lunch, so I exchanged my books and followed the flow of students to the cafeteria to grab something to eat with the little money I had. As it turned out, the food was expensive, so I gracefully let myself out of the line and sat at the closest open available table to read in peace. I was perfectly fine with skipping a meal – ever since my father had left all those years ago and food had come second in place after alcohol in my household, my diet and crashed and my body hadn't been able to gain a pound past 110. For my 5'7 stature I was classified as underweight, but I was still curvy and confident about my body without any health problems, so I continued to live without any problem with it. I plopped myself down on the uncomfortable table and pulled out _Lord of The Rings: Two Towers_ , which I had been reading through for the seventh time. It was one of the only series of books that I owned, which meant that I read it a lot. Finding a source of income was difficult for me, as I had only worked as a bus girl at a cheap restaurant once before being fired for coming to work drunk and quickly found that no other place would hire me with that track record.

My parent's alcohol addiction didn't particularly fuel mine; it was simply the fact that being in a stressful environment surrounded by abuse caused me to want to forget things more often than not. I had realized after a year or two of partying consistently and binge-drinking every weekend that that lifestyle was not sustainable, and after a couple months I had toned down my drinking to one day a week of heavy liquor. I would swipe it from Mike's cabinet and gulp it down as slowly as possible, trying to relish in the slow burning of the alcohol down my throat. I realized that it wasn't healthy, but it was far better than what it had been and I prided myself on that fact.

About halfway through the third chapter of _The Two Towers,_ there was a slam of a cafeteria tray on the table, and a large black mass sat in front of me. My wide, green eyes met a very handsome young man's brown ones. He didn't look all too happy to find me sitting there, and instead of introducing himself, he was glaring at me angrily. His large leather motorcycle jacket made his broad frame look even more intimidating, and although his shoulder length straight hair had one very bright, annoying streak of red in it, the rest of it was a very nice dark brown color.

"What is this?" He spat. "Did someone send you here on a joke?"

"W-what?" I immediately flinched and cowered out of reflex, putting down my book. "N-no! Do people really do that here?"

"If it wasn't a joke," the boy seethed, craning his neck and allowing his expression to harden even further, "then why are you sitting here?"

"I-it was the only free table," I explained, feeling myself grow smaller under someone who was more dominating than me. "I'm sorry – I-I didn't mean to upset you. L-look I'll move if it makes you feel better."

Suddenly, I saw him do a double take and take a closer look at me – squinting his eyes as if I was some kind of specimen.

"Hold on," He requested, his tone softening just a little. I stopped in my place, halfway between getting up and sitting back down. "Are you new here?"

I nodded frantically, wondering why that would make any difference in his facade.

"What the hell happened to your face?"

I froze, very certain that this was my first red flag to leave the room now. "Excuse me?" I whispered instead, pausing to allow my gut to do a second assessment on the situation.

"I said what the hell happened to your face?" he repeated himself. The bruise on my left eye had swollen itself up, sure, but he had to have the eyes of a hawk to spot the swelling on my face - no one had been able to detect it before and I did a very good job of covering Mike's tracks up.

"Uh," I nervously gulped and played with the long sleeves of my oversized sweater, trying to flip my long black hair so that more of my face was covered. "I got into a fight."

How the hell had he spotted the swelling over copious amounts of makeup? His expression revealed everything. It was clear that he didn't believe me for one second, but I hadn't expected someone to uncover my secret so easily. He must have either dealt with the same problems himself or assumed that I was involved with a bad crowd – but either way he grunted softly, shook his head and pulled out a book himself, beginning to eat. He was reading _1984,_ one of my personal favorites from George Orwell – but I wasn't about to say anything else to the angry boy. It wasn't until about ten seconds later that he eyed me awkwardly in my half sitting half standing position.

"It's fine," he assured, watching me as I sat down. "You can sit."

"T-thank you," I stuttered, still anxious and cursing myself for not being more confident. He eyed me curiously again one more time, perhaps taking note of my nervous speech impediment but instead choosing to continue reading. For the rest of lunch, we sat in silence until the bell rang, and I only bothered to give him a last glance as we headed off separate ways down the hallway towards our classes. I didn't know anything about him, but I could only assume that he was a senior based on his size and the way that the other students parted like the sea of Moses for him. Clearly people were intimidated, and I wondered if I would get to know him any better or if he would rip my head off before any of that happened.

I sighed, making my way – with the help of my very trusty map – towards my fourth class of the day. Survival strategies was something that I was definitely going to need; the frustrating fact that I couldn't heal myself caused a lot of inner turmoil despite the irony of it, so perhaps something in this course (or a visit to the school nurse – who was bound to know something about strange occurrences in mutations) would help me out. The first lesson was just an introduction, but after reviewing the course material I was glad to find a topic that read 'wounds and battle injuries'. Perhaps I would be to learn about my abilities on a more educational level after all.

My next class was Mad Science, which I had been dreading since this morning. Spotting that on my schedule – no; literally on printed paper, actually – had been a shocker, and I most definitely wasn't expecting a teacher with a giant head to be my professor either. This time, I couldn't help but gawk. I had seen a girl with purple skin, a boy with wings and another girl with a blue tongue – but this topped it all off. I managed to recollect myself after a couple of seconds, and blushed when I realized that he had spotted me. He didn't seem too offended by my staring nor shocked, and instead of yelling simply checked my name off of the attendance and instructed me to sit next at the last available desk at the back. Upon approaching it, I discovered that it held the same boy from my lunch table. He didn't say a word as I sat down whilst the teacher, dubbing himself Mr. Medulla, began his lesson. The boy was silent for the rest of the class, simply eyeing Medulla with the same glare that he eyes everyone else with. The course content was interesting, sure, but the boy beside me was drawing too much of my attention at the moment. I had gotten very curious about him and what he had assumed of me, but was too afraid to encroach on his privacy.

So, at the end of the day when the bell rang and I retraced my steps back to my locker – it was a relief that the first day didn't yield any homework – I didn't assume that the next day would be holding anything exciting for me. I braced myself for a difficult year and all of those horrible bus rides home, and simply reminded myself of the reason that I was at this school; to learn and go somewhere in my life. I would be damned if I ended up like my mother or Mike. So when I reluctantly clambered back on the bus, endured an excruciating dive back down to earth's surface and made my way back to my measly neighborhood and an angry drunken Mike, I reminded myself over and over again of my own worth. Even as Mike pulled my hair and slapped me on the cheek several times, I reminded myself of my own worth. Even as he gave me a solid punch to the stomach and called me useless, I reminded myself of my own worth. I swore to never forget it, and I wouldn't.


	2. Again

**Again**

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR BUS!" Mike screamed, pushing me into the fridge and holding my throat until I was wheezing for breath. "WHERE THE FUCK IS MY RUM?"

"I d-didn't take it," I lied, running out of oxygen and feeling my face heat up. I was going to miss my bus – and it was all because of this asshole. "L-let me g-go!"

"YOU'RE A FILTHY LIAR, ELLE!" He tightened his grip, and my eyeballs nearly popped out of their sockets. "AND YOU'RE GONNA PAY!"

"MIKE!" My mother screamed, throwing dirty silverware left scattered on the table at his back. "PUT HER DOWN – YOU'RE GONNA KILL HER!"

He let go with a large grunt, pushing me towards the door and yelling something about how stupid my school was in the process before he turned on my mother, who pleaded for me to go in her own drunken mess. I left in tears, holding my sore throat and practically running to the bus stop to catch my bus. I made it in the nick of time – it just pulled up and the driver gave me a strange look as I made my way as fast as possible to the back of the vehicle. I didn't want anyone to see me crying, and I didn't scream this time as the bus was launched into the air and made its trip up to the school. The numbness that came after every time that my stepfather abused me came very very fast, and I found myself barely paying any attention until the bus landed at Sky High and I was forced to get it together so that I could use the little energy I had left to turn my head and read my schedule. Today my schedule included three new courses, gym – one afternoon was marked 'Save The Citizen' which confused me greatly – math and visual art. It was safe to say that I was going to enjoy these days more, but I couldn't help but feel inclined towards my Mad Science class.

I waited until lunch to venture off to the bathroom – my classes had gone find without much interruption and I very much liked all of my teachers. I wondered if perhaps I would be able to reiterate that to my mother; she, at least, had been proud of my getting my abilities and working towards bettering my future. My stepfather on the other had, had only ever taken advantage of them and forced me to heal him when he got into a fight, or when he had beaten my mother so badly that she needed medical attention. I sighed, making my way into the girls washroom and nearly gasping as I saw the dark purple marks that had formed themselves around my neck. Not wanting a repeat of yesterday, I hoped that nobody had already seen them and took out my concealer, wiping on huge amounts. Eventually it covered, and I made my way to the cafeteria with a grimace. I didn't have any money today either; and since I had been woken to such a violent start today I hadn't managed to grab any food from home. Although the boy was already sitting at his table, I took the chance and assumed that my invitation to sit was implied since we had ended up on the right term yesterday. Thankfully enough, he didn't say anything when I sat down, and I sighed in relief as I read my own book.

"Don't you eat?" The boy asked after several minutes of sitting in silence and reading.

"I-I don't have money," I tried to sound nonchalant about it – my situation in life made me ashamed. But instead of laughing like all of the other kids had done at my previous schools, Warren slid a container of soup off of his lunch tray.

"Y-you don't have to do that," I muttered, feeling like a filthy charity case. He didn't say anything, merely tossed a spoon in my direction and continued to read. He didn't say anything else for the lunch hour, only stopping to stare at me out of the corner of his eye when I devoured the soup. Perhaps he had already figured me out – or perhaps he was making wild assumptions in his head. Either way, I hoped that he still didn't have the urge to rip my head off.

"Thank you."

It wasn't until Thursday that I learned his name. He hadn't said anything on Wednesday, allowing me to sit at his lunch table and not batting an eye when I placed my own lunch – a ham and cheese sandwich that I had managed to rob from home – on the table and began to eat it. I wanted to talk to him, but it seemed that Wednesday was silent day, so I waited until Thursday. At first, the lunch started typically – we sat and read our books until 12:30 – but suddenly the boy blurted out a name.

"Warren," He spoke, eyes still covering the pages of his book. "Warren Peace."

"Eleanor Rhodes," I knew who he was – his father had been a famous supervillain and his mother a famous superhero – but I chose not not comment on Barron Battle and Terri Peace and instead responded with my own name. He didn't say anything after that, only nodding slightly, and then went back to reading. Even though no more words were shared (as per usual) I could feel his stares every once in awhile practically burning right through my makeup. It was like he saw right through me.

* * *

It was Friday, and he was now reading _The Bell Jar_ by Sylvia Plath. I couldn't resist the urge to say something – it was like he was teasing me by picking all of my favorites. I mustered up the courage after several minutes, before speaking shakily, but without any stutters.

"Did you like it?"

Warren raised his head in question, tilting his head.

" _1984_ ," I clarified. "Did you like it? It's one of my favorites – I just wanted to know what you thought."

"It was thought provoking," Warren chose his words carefully, eyes darting around the cafeteria. "Made me stay up for hours after I finished it."

I nodded, smiling that I had found someone else with just as much of a joy in life with reading as me, and went back to _The Two Towers._ Originally, I had believed that it was going to be another quiet lunch with just the two of us, but out of nowhere there was a loud yell and food rained down on the table surface in between us. A boy had tripped and fallen, unfortunately spilling his lunch and ending up face first on the floor. I rose to help him up, but not before Warren stood himself and turned to face his offender. It had been a mistake, but it didn't seem like my new friend was taking it that way.

"Oh," the boy clad in blue gulped as he looked up at the large boy in front of him. "Sorry!"

"You will be," Warren glowered, taking a step closer.

"Alright," the other boy rose his hands. "let's not do this."

"You think you can do whatever you want just cause you're name is Stronghold?" Warren spat out the boy's name like it was a disease, tone growing more and more violent by the second. At this point, I could only assume that this was the Commander and Jetstream's – two of the most popular superheroes on the globe – son, William Stronghold. I had only heard about him on the news a couple times when he attended press events with his parents, but now that I looked closely at him I could identify similar features between him and his father. This meant trouble, only because The Commander – Will's father – had put Warren's father – Baron Battle – into prison for a quadruple life sentence. It looked like Warren had some long-held, pent-up anger against the Stronghold family.

"Look," Will began. "I'm sorry that my dad put your dad in jail, but -"

At this point, Warren grabbed Will by the shirt on his chest and brought him very close to his face. "Nobody talks about my father." He seethed, hands lighting up with flames.

I gasped, taking a step back and grabbing both of our books as well as my bag. I didn't want anything to get burnt; and I certainly hadn't been expecting Warren to have this kind of an ability. Pyrokinetics – or element wielders as I liked to call them – were hard to come by, but when they were found it was either a beautiful sight or a terrible disaster. In this case, I could only assume the latter was going to happen, and I was preparing to flee. A crowd had gathered after Warren's initial attack, looking between the two and waiting to see what would happen next.

"Eleanor," Warren growled, eyes burning as he turned to me. "Leave."

"B-but," I stammered, not wanting to leave him in a dangerous situation. "W-what about -"

"LEAVE!" He shouted, only letting a single glance of regret slip out as he caught my flinch. I didn't want the attention turned on me, so I simply fought back tears and pushed my way through the crowds of students towards my locker. I didn't want anybody to get hurt, but what choice did I have when I had been given a command like that? I didn't want Warren going after me after he demolished Stronghold. But nevertheless, I felt a twinge of something different as I left that cafeteria – like he didn't want to make me watch him get angry. I wasn't sure if it was involved in his assumptions about my home life or not, but either way I felt like he was trying to protect me from a different version of himself.

I made my way through the basically deserted hallways towards my locker, trying to ignore the sounds of the fight going on in the cafeteria and intent on hiding away in the washroom until the bell rang. I did exactly that; letting go of the fact that I was skipping two classes (one of which had been canceled because of the fight anyway) and only emerging when I was certain that I could blend right into the crowds of students. I assumed Will and Warren had received detention by this point, so I didn't think i would be seeing them anytime soon. Instead, I headed home on the bus. This time, when I got to the back seat I didn't hold back my tears. I wept because out of all of the things in my life – I didn't need more anger placed into the equation, but he was a friend and he was _my_ friend. I had found someone that I had made a connection with despite the fact that we had probably only shared a page of words between each other. I wept because it was clear that he had his own problems in his life and didn't know how to handle the anger of a broken family – and this resulted in social troubles at school that negatively impacted his experiences. I wept because of the similarity and yet the startling differences between us. I wept until the bus hit the ground, and until it rolled to my stop.

"Have a good afternoon," The bus driver tilted his hat, a sorrow expression on his face at the sight of my tears.

"Thank you," I mumbled, beginning my walk home and wrapping my sweater further around myself. What greeted me when I got home was the last situation I wanted to deal with for the day.

When I arrived through the door, Mike immediately grabbed me by my hair and pulled me towards the couch, where my mother lay unconscious with a large bloody gash on the side of her head. My heart took a leap and I nearly passed out at the sight of it – it was deep enough that I was certain I could see bone – but I couldn't bring myself to move.

"Fix her!" He commanded, swaying slightly but showing no other signs of intoxication besides panic. "Fix her and I'll forget the rum!"

After I didn't move in shock for a second, he tugged at my hair again, causing me to yelp in pain. "Is this some kind of joke to you, Elle? Fix your fucking mother before she bleeds out all over my damn couch."

 _It's not yours._ I thought as I tossed down my bag and quickly made my way over to my mother, placing my hands over her injuries. A warm rush surrounded me as I felt the familiar force of my ability sooth over our bodies and begin to close my mother's wound. I wanted to ask questions – I wanted to ask why he had done this, how long she had been like this and why on earth he made me do this every time instead of just killing us both off, but I held my tongue. Questioning in the past had only gotten me hurt, and I didn't think that I could take any more beating today. I felt the last surge of my powers before my mother's wounds sealed themselves shut, and I did a last scan of any other injuries before standing up and waiting for her to wake. She did so, returning to her normal sober state minutes later, and raised a hand to her head.

"What -" She narrowed her eyes and tried to wrap her head around what happened. "Elle, what happened? Did you -"

"Yes," I interrupted, giving her a kiss on the forehead and then walking upstairs to my room. There were no words from Mike, but I could hear raised tones later on that night as I put myself to sleep. I wished that this entire day had never happened.


	3. Refusal

**Refusal**

The entire weekend had gone terribly. Mike had relapsed back into his old behaviors after a night of staying sober with my mother. It seemed even her opinion didn't matter anymore. It broke my heart each time I looked at her; to see a parental figure so internally destroyed that she resorted to scumbags like Mike to fulfill her pathetic fantasies and let her own daughter be the victim of abuse. He had made me vomit from the amount of kicks he had placed on my stomach on Saturday and given my a split lip after chucking a fork at my face – I had spent all of Sunday in my bed rolling around in pain and by the time Monday came around, I wasn't sure that I could get off of my dingy little mattress on the floor. I practically had to drag myself out, still chastising myself for not scraping together any coins to go get laundry done and tried to get my makeup done as soon as possible. The bruise on my eye had faded incredibly as well as the purple marks around my neck, but there was no hiding the bruised and split lip nor the fact that I was slightly hunched over no matter which way I walked. I didn't even _want_ to look at the damage on my stomach.

So, as best as I could, I got dressed slowly but surely in some acid wash jeans, a form fitting long sleeved shirt and my combat boots. Besides my old Chuck Taylors, they were the only shoes I owned, and I wouldn't have traded them in for the world. I picked up my keys and sighed, regarding Mike and my mother passed out cold on the couch and took the opportunity to get together a lunch for myself as well as a good breakfast, no matter how much my stomach complained that it wouldn't be able to eat for days. I walked as fast as my mid section allowed me to my bus stop, making it just in time once again and shuffling my huddled form towards the back of the flying vehicle. This time, when the 'X' shaped seat belts criss-crossed across my chest and the bus began to fall through midair, I didn't scream in fear or joy (some kids had gotten used to the roller coaster aspect of the ride) I screamed out of pain. My mid section was in agony, and it was one of the worst pains I had felt in my life. It lasted for a good twenty seconds – although it seemed like minutes that dragged on and on – until the bus leveled out as usual and dropped us off at the floating piece of land.

I stumbled off, clutching my stomach and trying my hardest not to puke. It was going to be very difficult to pretend that nothing was wrong throughout the day – the bags underneath my eyes had even gotten bigger as my stress increased. I made my way inside slowly, making sure to stay close to railings and taking my time to get to class – our bus had arrived earlier than usual, and I thanked the skies that someone up there had finally done something in my favor. It wasn't until third period that a large hand grabbed onto my tiny arm and dragged me into a secluded hallway, causing me to jump back and gasp very loudly out of reflex. In all technicality it was Mike's fault that I reacted like this – he had creeped up on me many times and surprised me with a punch that all I could do when someone surprised me was yell and scream in defense. To my surprise, it was Warren Peace, and he was apologizing from the get go.

"Eleanor," He let go of me immediately, putting his hands up to signal that he wasn't going to do anything. "I'm not going to hurt you."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair and slumping against the lockers behind me. My stomach was still in excruciating pain, and Warren noticed my grimace as well as the clutch of my stomach.

"What's wrong?" He questioned, looking me over before his eyes caught onto the bruise on my face. "What happened to your lip?"

"I don't know Warren," I snapped, fed up with his questions. He obviously knew what was going on, so I didn't know why he had to constantly tease me with his investigation. "What do you think?"

He shut up at that, and instead changed the topic towards the events of yesterday. "Look, I wanted to say sorry. For yesterday. I didn't mean to yell."

Green eyes met black, just like the very first day we met, as I tried to evaluate whether or not his apology was sincere. As someone who had dealt with endless streams of lies their entire life, I prided myself on the fact that I was able to detect when someone was bluffing. It seemed like Warren was telling the truth – he displayed an emotion that I had only seen a couple times on his angry face: regret – and I immediately felt my hard facial expression fall.

"Whether or not you meant it," I shook my head, looking to the side. I didn't want to make eye contact at the moment. "You have an anger problem – I don't know if it's because of your father or something else inside of your head, but you've got to fix it before it ruins everything for you."

Unlike Will, when I mentioned his father Warren didn't say a word, and instead listened to what I was saying with a stoic facial expression and his hands in his pockets. With every painful breath that I took and each word I spoke he seemed to grow more and more empathetic, and after I was done talking – and had to clutch at my stomach again – he apologized again.

"I'm sorry," He ran a hand through his hair, leaning on the locker beside me. "I didn't mean to get so angry. Stronghold isn't exactly a very friendly name in my house."

I didn't say anything to that, simply hunched myself over more and admitted that perhaps Mike had done more damage than I had initially believed. What was important was that Warren realized where he had gone wrong and how his anger would effect the rest of his life, but at the moment I wasn't exactly fit to give lectures, and before I knew it Warren was leaning down to my height to help me straighten back up. I hadn't noticed it before when he had grabbed me – but his touch was definitely warmer than a normal human being's. I could only assume that it was because of his powers, and let him lead me to a bench nearby where he sat me down and pleaded with me to tell me what was wrong.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong," He rumbled, running his hand through his hair again. "I want to help you."

"I don't need help," I sputtered, clutching at my bruised stomach. "I need..."

"Need what?" Warren asked after a couple of seconds. It took him awhile to catch on to the fact that I wasn't going to answer him, because I had begun to cry. This didn't help my situation at all – it only caused tension in the muscles in my stomach as they tugged and pulled to accommodate the jerks of my tears – and therefore I cried harder. It was as sad as the stupid circle that my life had become; I was crying and making my pain worse, whilst my pain didn't go away because I wasn't doing the right thing about it. The right thing would have been to do to a doctor or to the nurse – but I chose to suffer as to not let anyone discover my secret. Warren situated himself next to me, stroking my back in rhythm but unsuccessfully distracting me from my pain. It took me around ten minutes to stop my tears, and by that time Warren had wrapped his whole arm around me and I had been leaning onto him for support. My cries faded out just as quickly as they had come, and I quickly realized that I now owed my new friend an explanation of some sort.

"I need..." I searched for a word. "A lot of things."

This didn't seem to make Warren feel any better, and he simply grunted before suggesting that we headed off to the cafeteria to eat. I didn't particularly want to go back there, but with Warren's encouragement I was convinced, and we trudged off down the hallway. As soon as the bell rang and the classroom doors opened, it was clear that things were going to be different from now on. The usual sea of people parted for Warren, but they didn't expect a girl to be walking right by him, as timid as could be, but shielded by the giant leather mass. Warren was big and scary, so it took a lot of courage for some students to even whisper about the situation as we walked by. It didn't feel good or bad; I was just walking with my friend, and perhaps if some of these students stopped and made a patient effort to get to know Warren a little bit better instead of torturing him all of these years, perhaps they would have gotten the same privilege.

We made it to our usual spot and sat quietly, Warren's eyes tracking my movements and facial expressions all the way. I felt like I was being watched, but not by a hawk ready to stalk it's prey like Mike watched me...no – the way Warren watched me was something else completely, and I had never experienced it before. Whilst he regarded everyone else with a sharp glare, he seemed to reserve a certain empathetic flame in them when he looked towards me. I noticed the safety I felt compared to the first day at school with him, and started to realize that he wasn't only staring to make sure that I didn't collapse on the spot. He was trying to puzzle me out.

And for some reason, I was completely and utterly alright with it.

"Eleanor," Warren began by saying my name the same day in our last class. We had been tasked with constructing a freeze ray in Mad Science, and I had been clutching the table in pain for a good five minutes. "Please let me take you to the nurse."

"Just keep building the fucking gun," I grunted, muscles so sore I couldn't find a comfortable position for them. "Please Warren."

"No – _please_ Eleanor," He shook his head, begging with me. "Please let me take you to the nurse."

"Warren," I turned to him and met his gaze straight on, shocked by the intensity of it. "Listen to me – I can't tell anyone about this, and neither can you."

He put down the parts of the freeze ray, breathing heavily out of his nose and clenching his fists. I could sense his frustration building – he only wanted to help and I was shooting down all of his attempts. He clearly understood at this point that I was suffering from abuse, and although he didn't have any evidence towards it, wanted only to make sure that I was alright in the medical perspective. But I still couldn't bring myself to allow someone else to see the marks that Mike had put on me. It was too much to unveil; there would be questions and a phone call home, and I wasn't ready for any of that. Warren's current temper wasn't helped by the fact that Will Stronghold walked into the classroom minutes later, claiming that he had been switched into hero support.

"Little bastard got his powers when he was fighting me yesterday," Warren grimaced. "They had to rebuild the cafeteria overnight."

"You didn't get hurt, did you?" I found myself concerned for his safety, although that should have been a question that I asked sooner in the day.

"Does it look like I can't take a hit?" Warren made a face, glaring at Stronghold.

"No," I admitted, agreeing with him and looking towards Stronghold. He had most likely received his father's super strength. "You look like you could take a lot."

I caught Warren's smirk as he went back to work, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. After a couple minutes of assembling and screwing around with some parts with little help from me – I just handed him the parts of the ray that he asked for – he held up a perfectly constructed freeze ray in his hands. The thing looked like a gun, and it scared the crap out of me. It took Medulla five seconds to walk over to our desk, accuse us of cheating and then test out the ray on one of our less fortunate classmates. I nearly jumped right out of my seat when he turned to me, terrified that he was going to expose us to the ice as well. Warren simply placed a hand on my back, stilling me and providing a warm rush to the muscles there. Medulla placed the gun down on the table instead, proceeding towards Will's table without a second glance back at us. I assumed that meant we had passed his test. I let out a long breath, running a hand through my hair and relaxing as soon as the large headed man walked away. Warren sighed along with me, returning his glare to the desk in front of us and holding out his silence until the bell rang. Then, instead of getting up abruptly and leaving the classroom like he normally did, Warren stopped and turned to me. He opened his mouth, then closed it, and then opened it again almost like a fish. It seemed like he was searching for the right words.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," He repeated once more and gave me a knowing look. "I didn't want you to see anything violent."

 _Too late for that._ I almost snorted, but held my composure and tried not to flinch as another spasm of pain went through me. Unfortunately, Warren noticed and heaved a breath. He had given up on trying to take me to the nurse for the day and had instead settled for sighing every time I cringed in agony. He stood, waiting for me to get up as well, and it took me a second to realize that he had planned on escorting me to the bus.

"You take the same bus?" I questioned, making my way up the steps slowly and wondering why I hadn't seen him before.

"No," Warren sighed. "But I have work tonight anyway and this bus stops closer."

"Where do you work?" I questioned as I sat down and he followed suit.

"Paper Lantern," He played with a small flame on his fingers, lighting all ten before extinguishing them. "It's a Chinese Restaurant."

"Really?" My mouth began to water, and I licked my lips as I thought of all of the delicious food that I couldn't have ever afforded there. "Mmm."

Warren gave me another smirk, practically making me melt – as much as I tried to hide it he must have noticed – and offered to treat me to a meal some day. I politely agreed, fully intent on taking that offer as soon as I got to know him better. I wasn't going to take advantage of him off the bat, and I was sure that he was too busy with his job to sit down and have a meal. It was interesting to find out more about it every day – most students just referred to him as Baron Battle's son, so any of the gossip that I overheard in the halls when he walked by wasn't very helpful. People were concerned that the apple didn't fall very far from the tree, as it were, and that was precisely the reason why I was torn to shreds each time I looked towards my mother.

Speaking of which, I almost wanted to scream for Warren to stay on the bus as he departed with a final nod – I wanted to tell him everything – unleash the truth on him and tell him to help me. But I didn't say anything. I kept my quiet mouth shut like usual, and my situation only got worse. I left the flying vehicle at my stop, bracing myself for whatever I would receive at home and trying to remind myself that Warren was the sole proof that someone out there enjoyed my existence. As I had guessed, the minute I walked in the door I was immediately assaulted by cries and shouts of my name, telling me to fetch a coca-cola from the kitchen and 'get my lazy ass in here'. I bit back a reply, and continued to the living room with the fizzy drink in hand.

Mike sat on the couch, flipping through the channels lazily and enjoying a cigarette whilst my mother tried to keep her eyes open while she looked at me.

"Eleanor," She slurred. "How was school, honey?"

"It was good mom," I placed the coke down on the table in front of Mike and willing him to stay quiet for the time being. "I learned a lot."

"Is'a stupid fuckin' school," Mike drawled, but fortunately did not make a move to get up. "Supers are shit."

I quietly exhaled through my nose, giving myself strength to not make any snark remark back and instead excusing myself to go up to my room, taking a Tylenol from the medicine cabinet on the way. Mike didn't exactly have a reason besides jealousy to hate supers; they had saved him and the rest of mankind from evil many times, so to view them as a nuisance was a bit ridiculous when there were worse people out there to hate. I tried not to waste any more time thinking about Mike, and instead continued upstairs to my dinky little room – covered in dirty clothing and old rock posters – to finish my homework. I hadn't been assigned a lot in the last week; school wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be and I was a fairly independent learner, so I wasn't struggling as much as I thought I would have. Math and English came to me very easily, and all of the other super classes were fine to catch on to, so I was glad that I wouldn't need any assistance this year. In the education retrospect, obviously.

Upon finishing my schoolwork I looked around and decided that it would most likely be a good idea to head to the laundromat – I had some extra change leftover and wanted to get my clothing cleaned before school tomorrow, so I loaded as much as I could into my laundry bag and struggled to get it all the way to the laundromat a couple blocks away. Since it was still relatively early in the day, I didn't have to worry about anything happening to me in the neighborhood, but I realized that an hour later after my clothing was only halfway done drying in the massive dryer, that I would have to walk home alone and in the dark. That was, until, a certain Warren Peace came trotting through the door with a giant bag of laundry on his back as well. I gaped, not expecting to see him after a short period of time and especially not in this neighborhood, but when he spotted me all was explained.

"Eleanor?" He made a face.

"Warren?" I copied his tone. "What are you doing here?"

"Paper Lantern is a couple blocks West," He signaled behind him from where he'd come from. "I drive here sometimes before I go home after my shift – the dirty laundry in my car was piling up."

"No kidding," I smiled, the feeling of safety overcoming me once again. I remembered how he had gotten off a stop before me on the bus, and briefly wondered if I had passed by the Paper Lantern before in my lifetime. "Small world, huh?"

He let a chuckle escape his lips, and I was almost certain that I could see hints of a smile on his face from where I sat swinging my legs on the table. The pain in my stomach had decreased by a good amount since I had gotten home and popped that Tylenol, and I assumed that Warren noticed, because after he had piled all of his laundry into the washer and began the load, he questioned my stomach.

"All better?" He pointed towards my tummy.

"I took a Tylenol," I smiled slightly, the expression not reaching my eyes. I prayed that the questions stopped there, but of course they didn't. "I'm fine."

"You mind telling me what happened?" He leaned on the table, crossing his arms and causing my brain to become slightly distracted as I stared at his arms.

"Uh," I stammered, still unsure if I wanted to explain. "It's woman...stuff."

Warren tilted his head, giving me a 'I smell bullshit' expression and tightening his jaw even further. "I'm not an idiot, Eleanor. I have a mother."

Out of options, I resorted to my last excuse. "I got into a fight."

"With?" Warren didn't buy it, but he seemed to be humoring me by asking.

"I don't know," I lied again. "It was dark and I didn't see their face."

He didn't press the issue any further, besides confirming that my split lip had been from the fight as well. I could tell that he didn't believe me; he was practically teasing me with all of those little looks and shakes of his head, but there was nothing that I could do or that he was going to do at the moment. At times I felt like a coward for not turning Mike in to the police, but I remembered how he was providing money for us, and how if I did rat he would be able to smell it from a mile away and most likely kill me if he found out. Mike was a bad man, and had connections that I didn't want to experience. I wasn't sure if he had killed someone – either directly or indirectly – in the past before, but i wouldn't have been surprised if he had. He had a very manipulative and abusive personality, and I didn't want to be the one holding the end of the stick when one of his little gang friends came after me.

"Eleanor?" Warren broke me out of my thoughts, as I hadn't realized I had been staring into space until now.

"Sorry?"

"I asked if you needed a ride home," He repeated himself. "It's dark and you're tiny – I wouldn't want you to get jumped."

I thought a minute before responding, careful because of the fact that if I was spotted by Mike or my mother, there would be hell to pay when I got inside. There was also the simple fact that they were louder than the entire neighborhood, so Warren would definitely be able to hear them in the car. But despite all this, I realized that I would much rather choose a ride home in the car with Warren instead of possibly being jumped and robbed of pretty much the only possessions I had left. So I accepted the ride, praying to the skies (for what seemed like the millionth time that week) that perhaps both my mother and stepfather were passed out cold by now.

We waited for his laundry to dry mainly in silence – I was used to it by now with him and had always been a quiet kid anyway – and then sat ourselves in his black Honda Civic with our bags of clean clothing in the back. It was nice; the smell of clean clothing trumped a lot of other things besides pizza and fresh coffee and made me think of nicer times. I let my driver know my address, hoping that he wouldn't judge me too hard based on the neighborhood that I lived in nor the kind of house that I owned...I couldn't even call it a house anymore; it was a piece of shit barely standing up and looked run down no matter which angle you tried to see it from. Upon approaching the house – the ride was unfortunately short – there were screams and shouts coming from inside. I almost gave myself away by paling, but hid my nausea at the last moment.

"It's our neighbors," I lied, hurriedly jumping out of the car with my laundry before he could say anything else. "They're nuts."

"No," He followed me out and grabbed my arm, pointing to my house that had my address clearly stamped by the front door. "That sounds like it's coming from right there."

"Well it's not," I snapped, tears building up in my eyes. I didn't want him to find out – I didn't want anyone to find out. "Thanks for the ride."

"Eleanor!" He tugged at my arm again as I tried to run off. "Please."

"No – please Warren!" I slumped, nearly giving up but depending on my last brick wall to defend me. "I'm fine – don't worry about me."

He shook his head and breathed heavily, clenching his fists as to not get angry like he did with Will. I backed a step away, afraid of him for a moment, before remembering what he had said to me and that he was my friend. We didn't share any words as I simply stood there staring at him and his internal frustration; I didn't know how he felt and I could only imagine that he wanted to help, but I didn't need help. I was going to turn Mike in on my own terms when I wanted to. As of right now things were too complicated; I didn't want to end up in foster care because my mother was too incapable of taking care of me, and I didn't want one of Mike's old goony friends to come back and bite me in the ass. It was too risky, despite the fact that I couldn't even make a phone call in the house without being berated or beaten. It was hell, but I wasn't going to risk the consequences of escaping the confines of it.

"If someone..." Warren placed a hand on his forehead. "If someone is hurting you Eleanor..."

He paused and gulped silently after the silent threat had been made, visibly trying to contain his rage. No more words were shared, but he merely shook his head as if he was unable to accept the reality of what his anger would let him do to my offender. From the look on his face, it took every ounce of his willpower to get back in his own car without saying or doing anything else and driving off. I was left alone, feeling very abandoned – for a reason that was completely my own – and finished. Like a balloon you found three days after a party behind your couch; all deflated and out of oxygen. Or like a soggy piece of bread that you couldn't reuse or put back in the fridge, because it was just wrong and nasty in a lot of different ways. I felt horrible, and whilst my gut knew what the right thing to do was, my mind was whispering all sorts of little things that made a lot of sense to me at the time being. I was the most conflicting person I knew, so I dragged my little conflicting ass back into my horrible home where the screaming match was still going on, and practically succumbed myself to the violence inside.

It was hell, and I wasn't ready to leave it.


	4. Maybe

**Maybe**

It was several weeks later, and I had begun to juggle the possibility of turning in my stepfather. Warren and I hadn't spoken of the incident, and no more threats had been shared – partly because Mike hadn't laid a hand on me since the fork incident – so we mostly sat in silence during lunch. It had become routine for me; reading at the lunch table and accepting the soups that Warren slid my way, never forgetting a spoon alongside it. Eye contact was minimal, but he spoke to me during Mad Science and made a visible effort to remain civil. Even when he and Will beat the villains in 'Save The Citizen' (a cruel game that Coach Boomer, our supersonic screamer gym coach had invented) he didn't say a word about the match to me. I didn't know what kind of words were hiding under his facade, but I was very much terrified of what he might have had to say. Partly because it all would have made logical sense; Warren would say that I should march straight up to the police headquarters and have my stepfather arrested, get my mother through rehab treatment and get myself into a safe foster home until she was safe enough to take care of me. I had explored my options, and besides the chance of Mike sending one of his friends to wipe me and my mother out, the plan was relatively airtight. Despite this, all I managed to do by the end of the week with my knowledge was apply for welfare. I was seventeen and in my junior year, meaning that I was eligible to apply and had a viable reason to. I didn't know if Warren liked this idea, but if he didn't he masked it well and simply grunted when I told him.

This meant that I would be able to save money, and that I would most likely end up moving out after finding a job. The key goal was to build towards turning Mike in, but day after day I just couldn't find the courage. What if I did get placed in a foster home? I didn't want to go live with someone I didn't know – and I certainly didn't want a medical team sending my mother away to rehab. If my mother was going anywhere, I was going with her, and a foster home wouldn't let me do that. So despite what Warren might have thought, this ran deeper than what his assumptions supplied him. I still needed time to think; the only risk factor was what Mike could do in this time span I had established.

"ELEANOR!"

It turned out he could do a lot.

I didn't reply at first, trying to creep my way through the house so that I could escape in peace. Warren had invited me to try the famous Paper Lantern's Chinese food, and I wasn't about to turn down that opportunity especially since my welfare check had just come in the mail. Unfortunately, Mike had come down on me at just the last minute, and I was praying that he hadn't detected the whiskey that had 'gone missing' last week. As usual, I had no such luck, and before I knew it I was being pressed against the front door just like my second day of school. I felt a deep pang of deja-vu, but a very awful and twisted kind. There was spit and the stench of alcohol being thrusted into my face – enough to make me reel and try to squirm away from his grasp even further. I could sense my oxygen levels depleting; Mike was yelling and I was wheezing and desperately trying to get a foothold somewhere, but to no avail. The black overcame me frighteningly fast, my last memory being Mike's angry face in between his two arms, squeezing my neck so hard it made his face red.

I came to five minutes later – as my clock revealed – slumped against the door curled into a fetal position. It took me a minute to get up and meander to the sink to get some fresh water in my system before I realized that Mike would be on the warpath again once he realized that I had arose and would most likely come after me again. Once I got into my room he didn't bother me, but if I was out here anything was possible. So I took my bag and fled, not even questioning where my mother was and too eager to join my friend and fill myself with a good meal. I was halfway down the street when I heard the breaking of glass, and down the block when I heard the shouting. I heaved a sigh and continued along my path. It was getting dark out now, so I hurried until I was greeted with the bright red lettering of the Chinese Restaurant and hurried inside to the warmth. It had gotten rather cold out, and my worn in skinny jeans didn't do much to defend my chicken legs from the weather. My combat boots were helpful, but I had been forced wear two layers on top so that I didn't catch a cold. I also had a hat and gloves – the gloves weren't so useful when their fingers were all missing, but I didn't care much. I walked through the rows of tables, finding the place almost cleared out for the evening, and then spotted Warren at a booth nearby with a red-haired girl sitting across from him. This was cause for curiosity, so I creeped closer.

"To let true love remain unspoken," He was speaking to her just as I approached their table. "Is the quickest route to a heavy heart."

I nearly stopped and turned right back around; I was clearly breaching on a sensitive topic and didn't want to disturb – for all I knew this was his girlfriend – but then I remembered seeing her around school, and at that point she had spotted me in all of my stressed glory and nudged Warren. He turned to face me, hair slicked back into a ponytail and apron around his waste, and shot me a smile.

"Layla, this is Eleanor," He introduced me as I approached cautiously, nervous about meeting a new person. "She likes to read – doesn't talk much."

I almost snorted at his description – it was true that I didn't talk much with anyone else besides Warren – but merely settled for forcing a sweet smile out of my lips and shaking hands with Layla. She left seconds later, thanking Warren and bidding him farewell until school tomorrow. I watched her go, wondering whether or not to take her place or to simply stand and wait for my friend to decide for me. He seemed to choose the former, and motioned for me to sit down as he cleared Layla's plate.

"I gotta finish my shift," He nodded towards the kitchen. "I'll bring you something to eat and I'll be out as soon as I can."

I nodded, settled myself down and refusing to take off any of my clothing – I enjoyed the warmth and staying bundled up. It wasn't until he came back around five minutes later with some food, and ten minutes later with his old hair back and his familiar jacket, that I really began to tear out of my comfort zone. He watched me in avid fascination as I scarfed down the food as fast as possible, using the chopsticks to the best of my ability and hopefully not making myself look like a fool. At this point I didn't really care; I just wanted to eat forever based on the signals my stomach was sending me. Warren watched as if he had never seen anyone eat this way before, and I briefly wondered if he had ever breached the topic of eating disorders and binging; it was the closest voluntary behavior that I could compare my _involuntary_ diet to.

"Sorry," I apologized, mouth full. I truly was; I hadn't eaten a proper meal in days since my first check hadn't come through, so I was particularly famished.

"No," He shook his head, leaning back in his seat and shooting me a lazy smile. "Go ahead – get some meat on those bones."

That seemed like a long shot considering my body didn't allow me to gain a pound past 110, but I didn't say anything to the jab and continued to eat until my plate was empty. I then stopped for a moment, breathing and taking the giant glass of water beside my plate. It took another minute to finish it all, but I did so with a satisfied smile. I guessed that a bit of light returned to my eyes, because Warren complimented my complexion and mentioned that my paleness had gone away.

"You're bags are better," He pointed to my eyes. "Getting more sleep?"

"I guess," I yawned, somewhat disproving his point. "I read when I can't sleep."

"Same," He huffed. "But no matter how much sleep I get I'm always exhausted."

I could relate to that.

"What was Layla doing here?" I asked after a moment of silence, curiosity taking over as I eyed my friend across the table. It wasn't exactly suspicion, but I was merely wondering why the girl had shown up at Warren's work.

"She was supposed to meet Will," Warren began to explain, stealing some of my water and causing a slight smile from me. "The girl's in love with Stronghold and he stood her up tonight."

"Ouch," I grimaced, feeling sympathetic towards the girl. It wasn't fun to be left alone, especially when someone had agreed to plans with you. At the same time, however, I felt slightly comforted by the fact that her eyes had been set on someone different than Warren. The Homecoming Dance – happening in October – was a popular topic at school these days, and everyone was very amped up about who was asking who and who was angry at someone else. I rarely listened in on these conversations, but it was hard to ignore after awhile and I found myself amused by some of the antics of the students. I definitely wasn't going; big social events – especially where there was no alcohol allowed – were not my thing, despite the fact that I probably wouldn't even be asked. Despite this, I continued to feel safety when I heard that Layla had her interests set on someone else.

"Yeah," Warren dragged me out of my thoughts. "Knowing the idiot he doesn't even realize she likes him."

My eyes snapped back to his face, where he regarded the candle (which I could only assume that he had lit himself) with a steely gaze. I decided to change the subject, considering the fact that it wasn't a good idea for Warren to be thinking about Will and his powers at the same time, and also that I wanted to get my mind off of his eyes and his muscles.

"When did you find out about your mutation?"

Warren searched his memory, clearly not used to being asked and obviously showing that he didn't search the libraries of his brain for that answer much. "When I was ten, I think. I got angry after my dad and I had a fight, and I torched a book I was reading. You?"

"I was five. My mom fell down the stairs and hit her head," I explained. "I didn't know what to do so I wanted to stop the blood flow with my hands, and I realized something was happening."

"What _is_ your power?" Warren made a face, as if realizing just now that all this time he hadn't known what my ability was.

"I'm a healer," I responded, playing with my long sleeves and chipped fingernails. "I can regenerate."

I watched for his reaction, which was a mere surprised recognition and a slight leaning back. That left the unspoken explanation that I couldn't bring back the dead, so Warren fired off his next question.

"What about diseases?"

"Haven't tried."

"Infections?"

"Same thing."

"Yourself?"

"Pardon?" It was here that I faltered, and acknowledged my hesitance to explain the one weakness I had. When I told people I was a healer, it was a natural assumption that I was able to heal myself, so I had originally thought that Warren would have made the same mistake. It would have been slightly obvious with all of the injuries he had seen on me; if I had been given the gift of regeneration for myself I wouldn't have had injuries at all. Yet, I felt I owed him an answer, and told him the truth.

"Can you heal yourself?"

"I can't..." I practically hung my head in shame; I didn't like admitting my limitation out loud, especially since it was such an ironic one. What kind of healer was I if I couldn't heal myself as well? "No. I can't heal myself. I've tried, but...no."

He was quiet for a second, trying to read the expression in my eyes before sighing and picking up my plate. "Regardless, that's kick-ass."

A smile spread over my face, causing him to return it and promise to come back to walk me home. It seemed like each time I spent a bit more time with Warren, we came a bit closer together. I got to know him better, and he got to know me better. Even if it was in microscopic increments – literally – we were becoming closer friends. I smiled at the thought, and made my way to the bathroom after slipping on my jacket again to make sure that my neck hadn't developed any marks. Of course, upon entering and looking into the mirror, it was clear that I wasn't going to be that lucky. Bruises were starting to form, encircling themselves around my neck and throwing me into a panic. I frantically searched my bag for my cover up, slapping it on as fast as I could and making sure that I covered any parts that could develop bruises.

I stopped after a minute, acknowledging a deep pit of negativity and guilt in my stomach as I realized that if this didn't end soon, it would be the story of my life. Covering up Mike's tracks as he ruined my life was not something that I wanted to do, but I was too frightened to make a step towards brightening my future. Sure, welfare was a step up, but it still hadn't eliminated the problem. I furled my eyebrows, staring at myself in the mirror as if trying to figure out my own brain. I sighed after a minute, realizing that moping about it wasn't going to get me anywhere, and packed up my bag again to go meet Warren at the table.

I found him waiting, bag in hand and chin in his hand.

"How much was it?" I walked up to the table, opening up my wallet and expecting to be charged.

"Don't worry about it," He shook his head as he rose. "It's on the house."

I merely smiled, thanking him for the gift and followed him out the front door of the restaurant. I would have to remind myself to take him out sometime in the future to repay the favor. We made simple conversation as we walked, talking about our favorite movies and what kind of music we liked. It turned out we both had a passion for old rock and adventure movies, despite our differences in watching humor – obviously myself – and horror. For me, my life had been horrible enough to get me off of stupid thriller movies forever, which included the stupid box-office hits like Saw and Scream. I had had enough of gore and jump scares; I got enough to them at home and had healed enough bloody injuries in my time to know that they were never any fun. Warren, on the other hand, had a sweet spot for them, and ate them right up like no tomorrow. He had seen all of the majors I could think of, but kept naming off random titles like 'The Skinner' and 'Hotel 666'. I couldn't keep track, and eventually we agreed to keep the conversation on classics, which we could come to an agreement on. We reached my house in ten minutes or so, still chatting amiably as he walked me up the creaky front steps and onto the porch. The ratty old wood wouldn't hold for much longer, but I doubted that Mike would want to replace it. Knowing him, he would most likely destroy the whole thing and just place a box as a step. Like everything else he did, it would be pathetic and stupid.

Suddenly the door swung open, and I was greeted with the site of my mother holding a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other. She leaned on the door for support, stumbling slightly and trying to see who was standing next to me. Warren didn't say a thing, not even shocked at the sight of a woman like her. My mother wasn't exactly scary, but with her skeletal figure and sunken eyes she seemed more like a malnourished junkie raccoon than a human being. I was convinced that that was where I got my genes.

"Eleanor, honey," She slurred, leaning forwards. "Who's this?"

"This is Warren, mom," I introduced him, doubting that she would even remember his face tomorrow. "We had dinner."

"Dinner?" She smiled, hiccuping once with a strange smile on her face. "L-like a date?"

"No," I rolled my eyes, amazed at the fact that she was able to embarrass me any more than she already had by showing up at the door drunk. "Not like a date, mom. Thank you."

"Well exshcuuuuse me," She drawled, stumbling again and burping loudly. "I'm sh-sorry Warren – would you like to come in?"

"I've gotta head home," Warren shook his head. "Last bus leaves in about an hour. Thank you, though."

He didn't seem very thankful.

I bid him farewell with the promise of seeing him at school tomorrow, not missing the way that his eyes followed me as I ushered my mother inside and shut the door. After a brief moment or two of trying to control her, she promptly vomited on the floor, and I was forced to lead her to the couch and let her recover whilst I mopped up her stinky mess. It was sad, really; at this point in time it should have been her that was taking care of her daughter after a first night of drinking or something alone the lines of that, but the roles were reversed and this wasn't a normal family. I set the mop down in the corner and dumped out the bucket of waste, grimacing and going to wash my hands as soon as possible. When I returned to my mother I found her passed out cold, so I did her the courtesy of stubbing out her cigarette and placing her beer on the table. I didn't even want to ask where Mike was, so I did myself a favor and lead myself upstairs, preparing for bed and falling asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

* * *

Unlike all other mornings, this one had gone relatively fine. Mike had shown up again from god knew where and was surprisingly sober, eating a big breakfast at the table and only giving me a heated glare as I came down the stairs. I didn't retaliate, simply grabbing a slice of bread out of the fridge and making my way to the bus stop. I definitely needed to start eating breakfast more; nearly passing out from hunger in my early morning classes was not acceptable, and Warren was starting to notice.

"You have to eat normally," He reminded me at lunch that day as I finished my salad and ate his soup. "No skipping meals and shit – make sure you have a good dinner too. Hell, buy something here and save it."

"I _can_ do my own groceries," I insisted, stretching my sore neck. I was grateful that I had remembered to put on my makeup this morning. "I just don't have anywhere to keep them."

"Are your parents really going to eat the food you bought?"

"Mike's not my dad," I muttered, frowning heavily and realizing that I had let something slip. My eyes went wide, and he frowned as well.

"Who?"

"Mike," I explained. "He's my step-dad. If I bought groceries he would probably eat them. He and my mom are really lazy."

 _And drunk, and abusive._ My brain chided, but I pushed the little voice away.

Warren let the topic slide with a final grunt, and we both went back to our reading. He had finished _The Bell Jar_ and moved onto _Bifocal_ , a powerful novel speaking about racism and terrorism in the United States and how it effected teens as well as the rest of the world. I hadn't read it yet, but Warren had promised to let me borrow it once I had finished _The Return of The King_. It was almost embarrassing how many times I had read through the _Lord of The Rings_ , but not as shameful as the total amount of times I had read through the _Harry Potter_ series.

Suddenly there was a clack as a lunch tray was set down in front of Warren and I (one day he had switched his positioning so that he sat beside me instead of in front of me, and I hadn't protested) and Layla sat down with a smile.

"Hi Warren," She began with a bright smile, looking towards both of us. "Hey Eleanor."

"Did I do or say anything last night to make you think this is ok?" He leaned forwards towards her, sending out his intimidation tactic first.

"Haha," She chirped, shaking her head. "You're so funny – but seriously, you're never going to believe what happened. I was just about to ask Will to homecoming when wouldn't you know it; I told him I was going with you instead!"

"I don't remember that being the plan..." Warren narrowed his eyes venomously as I looked between them, confused and feeling like I was watching a baseball game. I didn't know why Layla would have told Will that, unless he had done or said something to make her so angry she would have resorted to asking his mortal enemy to the dance instead of him.

Ah – I understood now. This was a game of spite.

"Hey Layla," All of a sudden there was another girl sitting at the table, clad in purple and asking Layla about the history homework. She didn't seem hesitant to sit down and didn't ask Warren first, instead opening her book up and turning to her green hippie friend.

"What are you doing?" Warren spat, glaring at the purple girl.

"It's called sitting," She spat back, staring him down haughtily.

"No one sits here but me and her," Warren motioned towards me, causing both girls to eye me curiously. I shrank even further in my seat, wanting a hole in the ground to swallow me up. I didn't like these types of situations; meeting new people wasn't my forte. With Warren, I had been eased into it after the initial shock – getting to know him slowly was more comfortable for me and it felt more natural that way. But making friends right off the bat? That was something that my comfort zone didn't like at all. I felt exposed and raw, like a fish that had been caught that was ready to be gutted.

"Mhm," The girl pretended to understand, then continued on her conversation with Layla. "What'd you get for number four? I didn't understand if Tigerman was either a) bitten by a radioactive tiger or b) bitten by a regular tiger and then exposed to radiation."

Warren was visibly trying to contain his rage, but it didn't help when a short kid donned in orange plopped himself down on the other side of Warren and began a conversation as well.

"Hey," He began excitedly. "We're eating at Warren's table now?! I feel extremely dangerous!"

"Woah," Warren began to get overwhelmed as I looked at him with a half panicked expression. Then, just like another ant coming out of the ant-hole, a tall boy dressed all in yellow sat himself down uncomfortably close to me and began to talk.

"It this guy bothering you Magenta?" He asked the girl in purple, pointing towards Warren.

"Try the other way around!" My friend glowered, staring around at the new additions to our lunch table. "Does anyone else in this fucking crayola box need a homecoming date?"

Ethan raised his hand, and I was almost tempted to do so myself, but kept my body rigid and continued to listen. Layla began to laugh unnaturally and hysterically, almost as if she was forcing it, but when Will walked by with Gwen Grayson – one of the most popular girls at the school – Warren seemed to understand.

"Please," Layla begged. "I will make this as painless as possible."

"So you're not doing this 'cause you like me or anything," Warren confirmed, shaking his head. "You're doing this to get to Stronghold."

"Yeah..." Layla admitted, eyeing the two of us curiously.

"And I'm in," Warren retaliated, shocking the whole table and showing off a bright smile before returning his face back to a scowl. "But I'm not renting a tux."

He got up, purposely knocking the kid dressed in yellow with his bag, and waiting for me to finish packing up as well. I had already begun when he had gotten up; if Warren was leaving I was leaving too – there was no leaving me with these new kids. I wasn't in the mood to socialize with anyone else today, so I definitely wasn't going to push it. He and I walked in silence for a bit, until we found a secluded hallway near our next classes – I had fallen into the rhythm of school again and memorized my class schedule – until the bell rang. We didn't say a word as we departed, but Warren slipped a small slip of paper with a phone number on it (I could only assume it was his) into my hand before parting the crowds as he made his way to Hero History, whilst I trudged off towards Math. The day went relatively smoothly after that, and it wasn't until Wednesday that Layla had another run in with Warren. We were sitting outside before classes started, reading on one of the long blocks that created the foundation for the school, when Layla ran up to Warren just as Will was approaching and made sure that he overheard their conversation.

"Hey cutie," She sat beside Warren and disregarded me completely. "I was just thinking about you. I cannot wait for homecoming! I finally..."

She trailed off as Will and Gwen finally passed, staring behind their backs in the hopes that one of them noticed, and didn't notice that Warren's hand started to smoke until she had received a fireball to her hand.

"Ow!" She looked towards him in surprise.

"Don't ever call me cutie," He growled, picking up his things. "Come on Elle."

I looked at him in shock for a moment – it was the first time that he had called me 'Elle', and it sounded particularly nice coming out of his mouth – before sliding my bag over my shoulder and following along. I shot a shy smile at Layla, who smiled as best she could back despite her situation and watched us walk off towards the front doors. It had been days since I had met her and still hadn't shared a word; to be honest she seemed like quite a nice person as well as the rest of her friend group, but I just wasn't ready to throw myself into fast friendships like that. Her and Magenta – the purple girl – seemed very chatty and amiable, and I was shy and nerdy and quiet...I supposed that they wouldn't have liked me at all. There was also the fact that they were freshmen and I was a junior, meaning that I didn't see them in any of my classes and didn't have a better chance to get to know them besides lunch.

I followed Warren all the way up the stairs and down several hallways until we had reached our first class of the day, Mad Science, but it wasn't until the end of that period that he spoke. Our classes didn't come together for the rest of the day besides Power Placement, so clearly whatever he wanted to say needed to be said now.

"Can you do one thing for me?" He asked, packing up his books. I didn't respond, merely stared at him with a faithful gaze. Good grief; I almost felt like a puppy sitting and waiting for instructions from my owner. Obviously it wasn't the situation, but I had always been submissive, so I assumed that submissive I would stay.

"Could you promise me to call that number if you need a place to stay?"

My eyebrows shot up, before I regained control of my face and realized what had happened. He hadn't necessarily figured out my situation, but Warren had put two and two together and made the conclusion that I was being abused, and without accusing me or talking about my situation in any way, he had provided a safe space for me and given me something positive. He'd found the loophole, and he was trying to work that angle. I bit my lip and stared down at the paper whilst he waited for an answer, nodding after a couple of seconds and hearing a relieved sigh from him.

He said nothing else, but I felt one of his large, warm hands brush against my back in a comforting manner as he left the classroom. I forced down a shudder and continued to English, trying not to think about the choice I would have to make tonight. In all technicality, every night was a dangerous night to be at my house, so by Warren's logic, I needed a place to stay every night, which meant that every night I should call him up and ask for a place to stay. The reality was it couldn't work like that at all, which meant I either needed to expose my secret, or talk to Warren. The bastard was forcing it out of me either way.


	5. OK

**Okay**

 **AN: I understand that the events are a little displaced – homecoming is traditionally pretty early in the year around fall and the movie moves a lot faster than that, so you'll notice that random scenes from the movie place themselves in my story at times that may seem strange, but in reality I'm just spacing them out in terms of when they would have realistically happened.**

As it turned out, I ended up calling that number sooner than I thought I would have needed it.

I dialed the number half an hour after I got home, bloody and bruised. Mike had immediately assaulted me when I had walked through the door, trapping me into the corner and holding me up against the wall so I wouldn't struggle as he pummeled his fists into my face. I lost count of the punches as my struggle grew weaker, but remembered nearly drifting out of consciousness and receiving a final kick to my stomach. Then, I recalled coming to about ten minutes later and trying to locate the phone despite the blood on my face. I doubted that I had brain trauma; things seemed to be working fine despite the fact that half my face was swollen and numb and that I could taste the significant familiar metallic taste.

" _Hello?_ " Warren picked up on the first ring; I assumed it was his cell phone.

"Warren," I mumbled, pulling myself up from a slouched position so that I was sitting on one of the chairs around my dining room table. I prayed that Mike wouldn't come back around to see what I was doing. "Can I stay at yours tonight?"

" _Did something happen?"_ He asked, a different tone coating his voice.

"I'll explain when I get there," I muttered, finally giving up. This method of living wasn't viable anymore. I had had enough and accepted that Mike needed to pay for his years of terror and abuse. My mother and I had both suffered, and whilst she had succumbed to the pressures of Mike's awful habits I had continued to stand strong, and promised myself that I would be responsible for the downfall of the man who had made my life a living hell. "I'm done with this."

" _Take the 52 from Main Street,"_ He explained. _"It comes every five minutes until twelve o'clock. Get off at Elm and I'll be waiting for you."_

"Thank you," I breathed, wiping my face and breathing a sigh of relief. "Thank you – thank you."

" _I'll see you soon,"_ Came his gruff tone, and we both hung up.

I practically darted upstairs as fast as I could, and packed a spare change of clothes as well as a small bag of food and toiletries as well as my leftover booze to make sure that I wasn't completely dependent on Warren once I got there. My heart was beating fast; I had never done this before and I was nervous to be found out. Whilst the logical part of my brain had finally taken over and assured me that explaining my situation to someone was a step in the right direction, the other part of my brain was screaming for control. It kept feeding me images of my mother in rehab, crying for her daughter and scary men seeking me out in the dead of night to avenge Mike. My anxiety caused me a lot of things, but it had never been this violent with me. It was almost as if there was a separate brain hooked up into mine, feeding horrible thoughts and producing second guesses. It was difficult, but I managed to push them away the entire trip to Warren's house.

As he had mentioned, he was waiting for me, and the minute I walked up to him he nearly blanched.

"Who did this to you?!" He gripped my face as gently as possible in his anger, nostrils flaring and eyes fiery with rage. "Was it Mike? Was it him?"

I didn't say anything, regarding him with wide eyes and waiting until his shoulders slumped in signal that he had made the conclusion by himself.

"Jesus Eleanor," He placed a hand on his face. "Please let me take you to the police – please?!"

I just looked at my feet as best I could – my left eye had swelled up pretty bad and it was difficult seeing out of it – but I maintained my vision as best as I could and simply uttered a plea to go in the morning instead of the evening. Warren was reluctant to do so, insisting that we would miss a day of school and that there would be calls home, but his mother would understand the situation and my parents never picked up the phone, so as far as I was concerned that worked itself out. He led me to his home, an arm wrapped around me to guide the way, until we got to the small abode where he and his mother lived. I didn't know if he had explained the situation to his mother, but when I walked in, Cyclone - otherwise known as Terri Peace - immediately went to grab her first aid kit. The famous superhero that was known as Warren Peace's mother and Baron Battle's wife had been famous for awhile, and I had seen her on TV, so being in her presence as she rushed to help me out was rather strange.

"Oh honey," She had a look of sympathy on her face as she went to wet a cloth. "I'm sorry that this happened to you."

She didn't ask any nosy questions or why I had come to her; she didn't even ask for my name. This woman – this hero – had accepted and rushed to help me as fast as possible, disregarding any suspicions she might have had. First she cleared the blood from my face and sat me down to get a better look at my injuries. Then, without a demand for information or a doubt, she disinfected my cuts – causing Warren to tense up at my hiss of pain and remind his mother not to hurt me – and applied two white medical bandages.

"You should go to the doctor to make sure you don't have any more trauma," She uttered softly, packing away the medical kit. "Eleanor, right?"

I nodded, eyeing Warren and wondering if he had said anything else about me to his mother besides my name.

"I'm gonna take her to the police station tomorrow mom," He explained, not even waiting for my confirmation. At this point, I didn't really care – I just wanted Mike out of my life and my mother in a safe place. If it meant I had to find a foster home, so be it. I wanted out of this shitty lifestyle.

"The police station?" His mother gave him a worried glance as she washed her hands. "Why?"

"Her step-dad's beating her!" Warren pointed towards me. "Look at what he did! He's been doing this for weeks, mom – since I met her on the first day."

Cyclone's eyes flew wide open as she placed a hand over her mouth and stood in shock for a moment or two. Then, she shifted closer to me and knelt so that she could see my face, taking on the role of mother for a child that didn't have a proper one. The cat was out of the bag at this point as Warren had clearly taken the initiative of speaking for me, and I didn't exactly object to it. This time, instead of considering it a negative thing that he had found out about a secret I have been keeping for years in a matter of weeks, I considered it a life saving event. But yet, I couldn't bring myself to speak.

"Is this true?" She murmured, brushing both sides of my hair out of my face. Warren was still standing nearby, tense and angry.

I didn't respond at first; my brain was running on overdrive – I barely had any energy left and I was so tired from the events of today that I just wanted to fall asleep. But there was a last push left in my system, and I used it to explain everything right from the beginning from when I had been born. I told them about how I found my powers, when my mother miscarried, when my father left and when my mother faded into blackness. I explained how Mike had basically come out of nowhere and how my mother was the only one able to maintain a job, however she depended on him for money to run the shabby little piece of shit house we had. I told them about when the abuse started and all of the monsters that came with it – the drinking, the cutting, the thoughts of suicide – everything. I opened myself up to a person who I had known for a month at the most, and another who I had only just met seconds earlier, and completely entrusted in them to help me at what was possibly at the most vulnerable point of my life so far.

When I finished explaining my morose tale, Cyclone was still staring at me with big wide eyes, and Warren's face had turned into a grimace. He held sympathy in his gaze, but I couldn't feel anything but tension in the room aside from Cyclone's aura. There were a few more moments of silence, and then she suggested that I get a good meal in my stomach and some shut eye. Warren reheated some leftovers set in the fridge and watched me eat without batting an eye, following the fork into my mouth and back down to the plate until I had finished the pasta. My eyes flickered between him and his mother, watching her as she cleaned dishes and meeting his stare for several seconds.

"The couch is a pull out," Cyclone explained, taking another plate and rinsing it. "I'll get it set up for you in a second. We should call the school first thing tomorrow and get you two out of your classes."

I was grateful that she didn't ask me to speak any more, because as soon as she mentioned the couch, my eyes already started flickering shut and Warren had to come to my rescue as to not let me face plant on the table. He sat me up straight, moving to the living room where he unfolded the couch on his own and grabbed a couple of blankets from the cupboard. Their house was small; not exactly tiny but small enough to match the rest of the little one floor houses on the block and form a neat row of what looked like little cottages. It seemed like a nice neighborhood; I briefly wondered why Cyclone didn't live in a bigger house since heroes got paid a large sum of money every year for helping defend the community as well as the rest of the world.

"Here," I noticed that Warren's grimace had faded as he held out his hands towards me and assisted me to the couch. His touch was warm and comforting, almost causing me to complain as he let go once I had been seated on the makeshift bed. "Tell me if you need anything."

I nodded slightly, watching him as he walked back to the kitchen and listening until Cyclone had finished washing dishes. They talked in low tones, and I could only overhear certain words here and there – not enough to piece together what they were saying. I hadn't moved from my sitting position at the couch and was now staring at the fireplace, my stomach twisted into a nervous knot that I couldn't untie. I really didn't want to leave my mother in the hands of Mike for the night – especially after he had beaten me so badly, but I had no choice and knew that he would hit me again if I stayed that night. My mother had fallen into his clutches simply because she had been so desperate and in distress after my dad had left, but I never blamed her for the life that Mike had brought down upon us. I blamed her for picking him out of all people, sure, but once Mike walked through that door he refused to walk back out. Even in the beginning after the multiple times that my mother tried to kick him out, Mike wouldn't budge, and when my mother began to see dollar signs and house bills being paid, Mike tightened his hold on her. Whatever I said didn't matter – he was paying the bills and that was exactly what she wanted him for. We hadn't known at the time that his emotional abuse would soon develop into a violent and terrifying lifestyle.

I hadn't noticed Cyclone making her way towards me, and jumped when she leaned down to offer me a glass of water. She recoiled for a moment, sympathy set on her face again, before handing me the glass and placing my bag at my feet.

"There's a bathroom next to the kitchen," She explained, pointing back towards where I had eaten. "Come get me or Warren if you need anything."

She paused for a moment before walking away, seemingly trying to decide whether or not to say something.

"Eleanor," She began. "I am truly sorry that this has happened to you. We are going to try and help you as best we can."

I stared up at her with giant wide eyes, reminding myself that this woman who had barely known me for half an hour at most, was now promising me that she was going to do her best to try and help me out of a situation she knew nothing about. A complete stranger - someone who I would have probably run away from if they had said hello – was helping me in a moment where I had nothing and needed something. This was the start of my re-instillation of faith in human nature. It had been dead ever since I had met Mike, so to meet someone who trusted me and allowed me into their home without a second doubt was very bizarre, yet extremely helpful.

"Try to get some sleep – if you can't there's a laptop with plenty of movies you can watch," She smiled. "Just ask Warren for some headphones. You're welcome to help yourself to anything in the fridge."

I nodded again, trying to focus on keeping down the nausea in the pit of my stomach. I felt like I was plotting for a major attack plan in an adventure movie. This was insane; I never imagined that I would have been fixing my situation this early on in my life, but now that I had finally realized why the little assuring voice in my head had been so wrong all the time, I was capable of taking steps forward. It was frustrating and nerve wracking at the same time – did it really take another person to crack me out of this lifestyle? Had I really been that brainwashed by my own head all along? There were a lot of things going through my head, and Cyclone obviously noticed.

"Goodnight Eleanor," A faint smile appeared on her lips, the sympathy never fading. Somewhere in those eyes, there was a sort of recognition that I was sure I saw. I didn't stop her as she left to her room to ask about it, but I was certain that both she and Warren had experienced some kind of monsters similar to mine. I could see it in their eyes; there was a darkness that lingered there and didn't calm. I could only assume it had something to do with Baron Battle.

Trying to rid myself of these thoughts and get some sleep, I took the liberty of changing into a tank top that I had placed into my bag to sleep and a pair of sweatpants. I found the most comfortable pillow I could and curled myself up as much as possible. I was terrified of Mike or my mother bursting through the door as soon as possible, accusing me of going up against them and trying to expose their secrets. It was as if I believed I had some sort of wire on me and that they were able to hear everything going on. I had to rely on my own mind to calm myself down and remind my thoughts that there was no way in hell they could have known where I was staying; I had spent countless nights outside of the house before without them stalking me, so what was the difference between this night?

 _You're plotting._ The little voice in my head sneered. _Plotting against your own mother. They won't even know what's coming._

I shut it up rather quickly, sitting up again in the bed as I acknowledged that falling asleep wasn't going to be as easy as I thought despite the exhaustion creeping through my veins. I could feel my eyes closing on their own, but the minute they shut they snapped back open and my brain was launched into believing that Mike was knocking on the door. It was almost as real as sleep paralysis, and I didn't know what to do until I finally decided to go ask Warren for the headphones. I didn't like being this near to the door in the household; it make me too anxious in case someone barged in and I was the first to be attacked. Quickly finding my way in the dimly lit house, I located what I could only assume to be Warren's room based on the signs on the door, and knocked thrice. There was a low call from inside – the light was still on – and I let myself in to discover a room that I could only compare similarity to with mine. Old rock posters littered the walls, covering red wallpaper that had visible torch marks and large holes. I wasn't sure if this meant Warren had punched it in his rage, or if his powers had been strong enough to break through concrete. Clothing, books and takeout boxes lay scattered everywhere on the ground, embedding themselves in between the desk and drawer where at least a hundred more books and CD's lay, accompanied by a stereo and two large amplifiers. It was a good setup for music; it was nice to see that he enjoyed investing his time in music and reading so much.

"What's wrong?" I hadn't taken into account that Warren was laying comfortably in his bed, shirtless, reading the rest of _Bifocal_ in peace. It took me a couple seconds to register it - if I needed a distraction it was certainly here – but it was broken the moment Warren repeated himself a second time.

"Uh," I stuttered, words stuck in my throat. "I-I can't sleep – I was gonna ask if I could borrow some headphones."

"Sure," Warren rose out of his bed, muscles stretching in all of the right directions and giving me a couple of seconds to stare as he searched his room. He found a pair, handing them to me and stopping as he spotted the tattoos lining my body. I had several, beginning with my arms where sleeves of different animals were placed and covered my self harm scars, as well as a large piece on my back, some on the back of my neck and behind my ears and several on my rib cage and hips. My ankles and wrists had began as stick and pokes and then had proceeded to be covered by real artwork, showing off symbols of Green Day's St. Jimmy, the Rebel Alliance and the Deathly Hollows. My legs were still a work in progress; but they held two major portraits on either thigh with a lion and a lamb, showing off a quote that read: 'Rise and rise again, until lambs become lions'. These marks were all very important to me – a lot of the pieces I got had been quotes that helped me through hard times or were simply symbols that meant a great deal to me.

"Hey," He murmured, staring at the pieces up and down. "I haven't seen these before."

I didn't say anything, smiling slightly. I didn't feel like explaining how I had robbed Mike of some of his savings stash every now and then, clocking him out of a solid three thousand dollars over the course of a year and six thousand over the next over small short periods of time. It seemed that he didn't notice either way, and he didn't deserve the money that he got for being such a horrible human being, so each time I wanted a new tattoo, I would take increments of cash out of his bucket of savings and contribute it to my new tattoo. It was a work in progress, but each one of my pieces meant a lot to me, and each time a meaning was engraved onto my skin it reminded me of the meaning that came alongside it. Each time I looked in the mirror I was reminded of their purpose, and they helped despite the bleak outlook I had on life.

"Where did you get all of these from?" Warren frowned, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. His curiosity had been piqued.

"There's a shop that I've been going to for a long time," I explained, biting on my vertical labret stud nervously as his eyes raked over my arms and chest. I had been working on my skin for a long time at the Golden Dragon; I knew the tattoo artist's so well they had stopped asking for my name, and simply expected me very frequently. Besides, Mike wasn't going to do much with the money besides contribute it towards booze, and he could definitely do with less of that. "years, actually."

"It's some nice artwork you got there," Warren's eyebrows raised as he leaned forwards to inspect some of the scripture underneath my collarbone. "I didn't know you had all these."

"Thank you," I mumbled, not very used to someone complimenting me on my work in progress considering I didn't show it very often. I considered my body a piece of art that I was always contributing towards – almost like a book where I decided the outcome. I could tell stories on my body and engrave messages that stayed forever – it was a concept that I had instilled in me ever since I had gotten my first tattoo with a fake ID. The ink had me hooked, and I was a regular customer from thereon out. "I appreciate that."

"Is that a jellyfish?" He motioned to one of my sleeves.

"Yes," I smiled slightly, remembering the time when my mother had taken me to the Aquarium when I had been little. "The ocean and the sky are on this side – the rain forest and the savanna are on the other."

He motioned for me to come closer, squinting his eyes slightly as his eyes made their way over each and every animal that was scattered onto my arms. There were birds, lions, a tiger, an elephant, dolphins and sharks – even a turtle and an octopus had made their way onto my arm. The colors were still vibrant and blended well together; all of the artists at the Golden Dragon were very talented in their art, and realism was a particular skill set they specified in.

"You got any on your back?" Warren jutted his chin out, as if to ask me to turn. I nodded, my smile growing wider as I realized he was enjoying the artwork that lined my skin.

"Woah," I heard his tone of surprise as the large circular scripture of the one ring from the _Lord of The Rings_ was revealed. It surrounded the white tree of Gondor, which was the tree that grew in the city of men – Minas Tirith - and gave them hope when it blossomed. It was a symbol of growth and prosperity; it was my first piece of work and one of the most beautiful. He couldn't see any more underneath my tank top, but I was sure that his curiosity was piqued, because he set on asking me about any more.

"I have many," I admitted, nodding. "They're parts of me."

"I can see that," He murmured, eyes still tracing over my arms.

"What about you?" I tilted my head, now curious to see if he had anything besides his two flames. I couldn't see anything on his chest, and I was too scared to look lower than that, so I left the question hanging.

"Just one on my back," He rose and turned around, revealing a giant phoenix covering a large majority of his back, screeching and barring it's wings wide. Above it was a scripture that read 'rebirth' in a Celtic font, sitting on his shoulders and accenting the giant tattoo. My mouth fell open slightly as I crept closer, trying to look at the details of the giant black inked bird in all of it's glory.

"Holy shit..." I was tempted to reach out and touch it, but pulled my hand back at the last moment. I figured that if I didn't like someone touching me without warning, it should be the same with everyone else. "It's beautiful."

"Thank you," Came his soft reply. Then, as if remembering something else, he lunged down to the ground to pick up a stray book in between two shirts and handed it to me. "Oh – and..."

"For you," He held out a copy of _Fight Club_ , the edges of the cover slightly burnt and bent. "I don't know if you've read it before, but you like action movies, so..."

"No," I smiled, knowing the plot perfectly well behind the book as I had seen the movie multiple times. "But I've been meaning to."

I smiled again and turned to leave the room, but stopped when Warren called my name again. It was nice to hear it coming from his lips; his voice was deep and smooth and soft – comforting to hear and reassuring at the same time.

"I'm sorry," He admitted. At this point I still had my back turned, and was unwilling to turn around as to not project myself as rude by staring at his body instead of his face, but was forced to at the sound of his apology.

"Sorry for what?"

"For pushing you," He continued, sitting back down on his bed and placing his arms on his knees. "For pushing you to leave your family sooner rather than later - I caused stress, and I didn't mean to do that. I'm sorry."

"Warren," I sighed, feeling my eyebrows pull together into a frown. "Y-you helped a lot. Maybe I needed that push."

"My push is a little strong," Warren admitted, grimacing as if remembering the first day he met me.

"Yes," I agreed. "But you helped me realize that I need to do this. This life isn't acceptable anymore – I accept your apology but I recognize that I might have needed that kind of a push."

This kind of talk was strange; I never would have thought of myself talking this openly to someone who I had only gotten to know in the last month and a half. My stutter had disappeared and my words flowed somewhat clearly as I was able to connect my thoughts to my mouth much better. Before it seemed like a blur of excuses and small pieces of sentences that I strung together to get through my life, but now everything was much clearer and easier. I was thinking towards bettering myself and my life instead of leaving it in the clutches of parents who only had their own interests in mind.

Warren didn't say anything else, so I hoped that he understood where I was coming from and bid him a final goodnight, going back to the front room and picking up the laptop that Cyclone had talked about. I sifted through several sites online, finally clicking on the fourth Harry Potter and lulling myself to sleep with the familiar sounds. It wasn't long before I was curled up again like a little bird, laptop and movie still playing in my ears as I slept.

* * *

I hadn't expected to handle the next morning as well as I thought I could have.

We had arrived at the police station early in the morning after an encouraging set of words from Cyclone, assuring me that I could go through with this and that she and Warren would be there supporting me throughout the entire day. Despite how early it was, the police were none too happy to find that we hadn't come to them as soon as possible, and to hear that my situation had been going on for years. I was quickly pulled into a side room for a psychological screening, and although my lack of comfort was like a thorn in my side I waved off a very angry looking Warren, who didn't want me alone with anyone else but him and his mother as they were pulled in for questioning as well. After an hour of questioning, and being issued a government-required half-year of mandatory therapy, I was pulled into a separate room for questioning. They asked me everything; my personal information, a time line of events, names and phone numbers, all recollections of incidents that I had had with Mike – quite literally everything. I felt like I was being examined under a microscope, but pushed through my discomfort and willed myself to pull out the inner strength that I knew I had been saving for something. I managed to recollect as much as I could, telling them about how I had met Warren at the beginning of the year and how he had spotted something wrong underneath my makeup, pressing me about my issues and causing me to rethink my inner voices. I told them about my drinking, my tattoos – everything. It was all laid out on the table after a grueling four hours. I was finally sent back to a room where Cyclone was waiting, who immediately enveloped me with open arms and hugged me very tightly as I let the tears slide down my face.

"Warren is still being questioned," She explained, rubbing my back and threading her fingers through my hair. "They're probably going to send you to the hospital to make sure everything is running properly – we'll be with you the entire time."

I nodded against her tear stained shirt, trying to collect myself as two officers came through the door, escorting Warren who wrapped a single warm arm around me and didn't let go.

"We're gonna have to escort you to the hospital," One of the officers fixed me with a gaze I couldn't describe. "They know we're coming but there might be a bit of a wait time – an ambulance is on it's way to take you since this is considered an emergency here."

"A-an emergency?" I was still wiping the last of the tears from my eyes as those horrid words came. Warren's grip on me tightened, as if assuring me that everything was going to be okay.

"You might have a minor concussion," The officer nodded, continuing. "We don't know if any other part of you has suffered internal trauma – you need to be checked as soon as possible in the triage so that we can get you back here."

"Sorry," Cyclone cut in, trying to clarify the situation. "What about her mother? Are we going to be able to talk to them?"

"We just sent a squad car out to the address," The other officer spoke up. "We have a warrant for the arrests so we're gonna pull 'em back here for questioning and charges. You won't be able to see them or talk to them until the questioning is complete."

I stayed quiet. I didn't want to hear about my mother being arrested at all. Whilst she hadn't hit me herself, she had been a witness to the crimes against me and hadn't said a word to the police, which made her liable for charges as well. I tried to think optimistically about the chances of her getting out of this situation, but really the only way that I believed she would be able to avoid jail time was by pleading mental instability and her addictions. I tried to void myself of those thoughts as the officers escorted us out of the station and into the waiting ambulance, ready to go with three EMTs waiting. This whole thing seemed to surreal; it was like yesterday was a dream and the last month and a half had never happened before. I was scared all over again, and it took a lot of coaxing from Warren to get me into the ambulance.

"What did they say, son?" Cyclone looked towards her only child, frowning slightly on the drive to the hospital.

"They ran the check and asked me if this was related to the arrests," He grimaced. This threw me off a bit – I hadn't known that Warren had been arrested before, so it came as a shock to hear that he had had trouble with the law before.

The trip to the hospital went fine for the most part; not many people were in the ER, allowing me a quick check-in and a position in a room as well. The doctor took a little while to show up, which was scary because I was alone again after Warren and Cyclone had been told to wait in the family waiting wing. But when he did show up, he promised to make the process as quick and easy as possible, assuring me with a soft smile. I was lead through X-Rays, CT scans and full body checks as well as a number of other types of tests that I couldn't pronounce, until I was psychologically screened again and reminded that I had to attend my mandatory half year therapy until the doctors at the hospital were certain that everything was safe.

We were all loaded back into a waiting squad car, and then sent back to the same police station we had arrived at seven hours earlier, where I broke down again. Cyclone and Warren sat on either side of me, taking turns to rub my back and coax me through the panic attack. I was blubbering about so many things at once they couldn't keep up, and simply assured me that apologies weren't necessary and they would stay with me until the issue was resolved. It was at this point that one of the previous officers from this morning came into the small room and let me know that both my mother and Mike had been placed under arrest.

"The police are choosing to charge him," He explained, sitting on a chair nearby and pulling out a clipboard. "She, on the other hand, needs to be sent to rehabilitation as she's unfit to take care of you at the moment but she is void of charges due to her mental state."

The obvious question of 'what next?' hung in the air, so the officer continued.

"As of right now," He began again, looking down at his clipboard for reference. "There is no need to place you under protective custody as the suspect isn't known to have any gang-affiliations. However, since your mother is unfit to take care of you as a parental guardian, we've got a foster family ready to take you in -"

"Oh!" I interrupted, springing to life and remembering my mother signing papers around a year ago for me to live on my own. In our state, living on your own under 18 required parental consent, but since my mother had wanted me to have the opportunity to do so, she had signed the sheets under my request and left them with me. "I have my M.I.L.S papers filled out!"

The police officer sighed, checking off something else and scribbling another off of his clipboard. "In that case miss," He stood up and opened the door. "I'll be right back. We're going to need to call to get confirmation and I'm going to need to reassess a couple things. Based on your current condition you are fit to live on your own but we need to fill out a different section of paperwork and run another examination for that."

"M.I.L.S?" Cyclone frowned as soon as I had agreed and the officer had left.

"Maxville Independent Living Status," I explained. "I signed up for it last year, but I never used it. I think I'm on file – when my mom filled out the forms I registered through the phone."

"You really want to live on your own?" Warren rose a brow. I met his gaze, trying to decipher any hidden emotions in it. If there were any, he was hiding them well.

"Well," I sighed. "I do want to get a job. It's whats most realistic."

"I think Warren might be able to help in that department," Cyclone nodded, arm still wrapped around me. "The Paper Lantern is hiring and they're willing to train."

"I've waitressed before," I turned to Warren, a hopeful expression taking over my face. "I lost my job after the place shut down but I still have my resume somewhere."

"I can bring it in tomorrow," He nodded, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. It was clear that he was getting frustrated by being here; perhaps him and Cyclone had become a bit too familiar with this place before their father had been locked up. There were numerous sources both on television and in the newspaper that mentioned the abusive relationship he held with his family. This was one reason I believed Warren had been so good at spotting my swelling underneath the makeup I had caked my face with everyday; it had been because of Baron's domestic violence against Cyclone.

Around twenty minutes passed by in silence as Warren's mother continued to stroke my arm, until a new officer pulled me out of the room to perform the next screening. He asked me a final few questions as well as evaluated me for an assessment to decide whether or not the subject was capable of living on their own without doing any harm to themselves, others or anything in their wake. He asked me if I had a place to stay until I found an apartment, and asked if I had ever lived on my own before. It was another concept that was foreign to me; I had always lived in a house with loud noises, other people and messes everywhere that I was used to cleaning up. It was going to be different living on my own and being responsible for my own food and surroundings.

"In that case miss," The officer finished by having me sign a large stack of documents. "Once you sign these, we can give you the court dates for the man who has been placed under arrest concerning your case as well as your mother's rehabilitation location. She's currently placed under lock down in the intensive ward, but her location as well as contact information can be given to you as well should you choose to maintain contact with her."

"Wh -" I stuttered a bit, confused as to how this was going to work. "When does she get out?"

"I'm not sure the exact time frame," He shook his head, a sympathetic expression on his face. "But when she is deemed suitable to assume the role of a parental guardian someone will contact you for her and give you that option. If not she'll be given the resources to assume a normal life again, and you'll have to take it from there."

"What about Mike?" I asked, eyes narrowing as I tried to think of any possible ties he might have had that could come after me.

"He doesn't have any gang-affiliations and hasn't been arrested for any manslaughter or assault past the first degree. There's no cause for concern with any loose ends – I wouldn't worry about that. If there's anything that you might be suspicious of, you should let your psychologist know so that she can get into contact with us. You don't have a cell phone plan which means we cannot call you, so communication is very important to ensure your safety."

"Ok," I muttered, twiddling with my tongue ring in my mouth as I grabbed the first form and began to fill it out. "Thank you."

"I'll stay here until you've finished with those," He nodded towards the forms, and watched me until I signed every last one. By the end, my hand was aching, and even when I was escorted back to my old home to pick up the remainder of my things, it was still sore. I looked around my room for the first time in awhile, wondering how the hell I was supposed to detach myself from this place, before pushing myself with a sigh and beginning to tear down the posters and neatly fold them. It was time to move on from this horrible place – I would reestablish a new home for myself and create nothing but good memories there – this place needed to leave my thoughts for forever.

I searched my closet for the large duffel bag I knew I had in there somewhere, and upon finding it I immediately began piling it full of clothing, books and CDs until nothing else could fit in besides several bottles of alcohol I had left. The police clearly hadn't done a search of my room, despite their thoroughness with the rest of the house. The place was turned upside down and it barely even seemed like a house anymore. I quickly focused myself on pulling any other bags out of my closet and piling the last of my clothing and sheets into it, grabbing my lamp as well and all of the stuffed animals I had laying around. Before I knew it my entire room was bare save the mattresses, and Cyclone had already promised that she would help me move them into my new apartment once I found where I was moving.

In the meantime, I tossed all of my belongings in the back of the squad car and rode with Warren and Cyclone all the way back to their place, where I had been instructed to stay until I found my own place. Until then, I had been left with contact information for my psychologist, the police number I was to report to if my living conditions changed or if any other problems developed, and the dates and numbers for Mike's court date as well as my mother's rehabilitation center. It was a boatload of information, but at last the police cruiser drove away and the day was done.

"You were very strong today Eleanor," Cyclone immediately enveloped me into another huge hug and tilted her head against mine. "We're proud of you."

I didn't realize that I was crying until I wiped my face and flinched at the pain of touching my bruises. I was quickly taken into another hug that I didn't realize was Warren's until the warmth of his chest brought me back to recognition. No words were shared, as per usual, but when I wrapped my arms around his I could hear the distinct sound of a heartbeat in his chest. It was enough to make me want to stay in that position forever; warm and comforted – but naturally all good things had to come to an end, and we followed Cyclone inside with my belongings to draw a conclusion to the very long and exhausting day. But out of all the things that had been said, one thing was sure to ring clear with me until the end of my time.

 _We're proud of you._


	6. Awake

**Awake**

 **Sorry I haven't updated in a couple of days – things have been busy as I've been getting ready for the school year. Enjoy the new chapter!**

It took awhile to adjust to life without Mike and mom. I was constantly jumpy and terrified of any loud noises, my ears seemed to be able to detect the slightest of sounds, it was hard to communicate without assuming the worst intentions out of someone, and I had trouble concentrating in school. Even though the visits to the therapist helped, it was like my life was missing a puzzle piece that had fit into it for so long and was now trying to recuperate by adding extra stresses to every little thing I did. My sleep schedule was complete and utter shit since I had gotten a job alongside Warren at the Paper Lantern and barely had time to do my homework before I passed out at night, and as much as Cyclone was trying to help me find an apartment it was hard to wrap my head around the fact that I would be living alone at seventeen. All in all, the bags underneath my eyes were back and I was still stressed beyond belief. Despite this, a part of me felt free. I was free from the clutches of a horrible lifestyle and hell – my mother was in safe hands and healing, and Mike would be locked up for a long time for the crimes that he committed. Besides the new stresses that came along with an independent lifestyle and my emotional baggage, I had a huge weight that was lifted off of my shoulders.

In terms of finding a living space, my salvation came when one of the cooks at the Paper Lantern informed me that one of the apartments in the attached building above was offering a very small one bedroom apartment for five hundred a month. Considering I got about seven hundred for welfare, this was a fantastic price range for me, and meant that I could work comfortably without worrying about getting rent paid each month. The living space itself was small; it included a tiny bathroom and bedroom with a pathetic excuse for a kitchen, but there was enough space for a small table and a couple chairs as well as an area where a couch and TV could fit. None of it could be big furniture, but it was good enough for one person. I took the offer as soon as possible, ready to begin a life on my own and glad that it was near my place of work. Although my neighborhood hadn't changed at all throughout this nightmare, the different setting provided me a place of peace where I was sure to live comfortably and safely. It was new and a bit intimidating, but all around positive.

"It's a little bare," Cyclone admitted as she looked around the bleak apartment on a Sunday night after I had been moved in. "But it'll fill up eventually."

I nodded, gazing around the open space and wondering what the hell I was going to with myself in my spare time here. She had helped me move my mattresses and my posters from my old home, taking the time out of her day to assist me with a spare dresser she and Warren had in storage and doing some groceries. It was a wonderful effort on her part; she had helped tremendously over the week – but now it was time for her to go, and I would be alone.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay with us for a little longer?" She offered, helping me put the last of my groceries away. "We wouldn't mind at all."

"You've helped more than you could ever imagine," I shook my head, smiling towards the woman gratefully. "Thank you."

She left with some last contact information, making sure that I knew that I could call her whenever I needed and that I was more than welcome in their home. This thought comforted me; knowing that I was accepted and had a place to stay if I was not willing to be on my own for a night was very important, and set my mind more at ease when I thought about living alone. But as soon as Cyclone was out that door, I felt more alone than ever. It was the silence that I didn't like the most – I would have expected to enjoy it after all of the noise in my life, but it was horrible and ringing in my ears like an annoying bug. It wouldn't go away, no matter how much I hummed to myself or how much I ran the sink. The silence was what pushed me to go out and buy a radio that evening. I listened to it until I fell asleep comfortably, happy that it drowned out the sounds of the silence and extinguished any angry voices in my head. Perhaps my biggest problem of all was that part of my own brain had been agreeing to the horrible lifestyle in the beginning and was still having trouble adjusting to my new one.

The next morning at school, however, I found that the silence haunted me again. I could only escape it after third period, when I managed to steal some time away in the washroom to reapply the heavy mask of makeup I wore and have some time to myself. Hiding in a bathroom stall wasn't one of the most pathetic things that I had done, but it ranked pretty high up there on the list, so I didn't try to spend to much time making sure that all of the bruises were covered and found my way to the cafeteria. It had been an awkward couple of days after I moved into my apartment; Layla and her friends had continuously sat at our table and prodded at Warren's temper, causing him to leave the lunchroom in a huff and ranting to me on the bus on the way to our shift each night. This meant that all of the drama was getting dumped on me – the one person who had no expertise in this field at all – and I found myself getting less and less motivated to get to know these people once I saw how they treated poor Warren. It seemed to me that to Layla, he was no more than a tool to use to get to Will, and to the others, he was an intimidating personality that they wanted to conquer to move up on the social scale. Despite this, they were clearly making an effort to try and get to know us, and perhaps after a little while they could prove my negative assumptions wrong.

"Here," I handed back my copy of _Fight Club_ to Warren, smiling brightly despite the pain in my face. "It was fantastic – thank you."

"No problem," He nodded, taking the book and placing it in his bag. I nervously pulled a copy of _Catcher In The Rye_ and held it out towards him, noting the slight twist of his lips upwards as his eyes caught the cover. He reached out and took it, holding it in his hands for a moment as if he was admiring the copy in complete perfection.

"I saw a charred copy of it on your desk," I explained, letting a chuckle escape my lips. "I thought you might want a new one."

"To keep?" Warren looked towards me doubtfully, playing with the cover page. "Are you sure?"

"Until I want to read it again," I laughed, seating myself at the table and pulling out a sandwich I had made myself. "Yes, to keep."

"Much appreciated," He nodded with an approving grunt, picking up his copy of _Crime and Punishment_ and continuing to read. "Thank you."

I pulled out my own copy of _Gulliver's Travels_ and continued to read whilst I ate my lunch, shooting nervous smiles at Layla and her gang as they sat down and began to talk as usual. It was getting tedious watching her angrily stare down Will each time he walked by the lunch table, and it felt kind of strange that the only reason she had approached and was now becoming friends with Warren was to make Will jealous.

"Nobody'll mess with us now," The boy clad in orange – who I had recently learnt was named Ethan – smiled around the table. "We've got an official spot here."

"No you don't," Warren retaliated immediately, staring him down. "No one does."

"Well," Ethan retaliated, motioning towards me. "She sits here every day!"

"Elle's been here since the first day of school," Warren growled, and I looked towards him with a soft smile at my nickname. "And she doesn't talk like a broken record like you numskulls!"

"Oh yeah," Magenta butted in as she looked towards me, a smirk creeping across her face. "I was gonna tell you I like your tattoos."

"Oh," My lips spread into a slight smile, voice still shy and soft as I met her eyes. "T-thank you."

"She's got amazing tattoos everywhere," Magenta explained. "Everywhere – there's a wicked _Lord of The Rings_ one on her back. It's the white tree of Gondor with the one ring's scripture – freakin' awesome."

"You're a geek," Layla shook her head, not knowing anything that she was referring too.

"Shut up!" Magenta shoved her, causing a ripple of laughter to shoot through our table. Will passed by on the way to his usual table with Gwen, staring longingly at his old friends as they continued to laugh without him, and I vaguely noted Layla's forlorn expression. Whilst I felt slightly resentful that she had gotten Warren unwillingly involved in her stupid freshman drama, I felt sympathetic towards her and her situation. Will was a bit of an idiot for not understanding that Layla was completely in love with him, and to NOT realize what a horrible person Gwen was, so to watch Layla go through what could possibly be her worst nightmare made me feel for her.

"Eleanor," Layla turned to me, clearly desperate for conversation and trying to get Will out of her head. "Are you going to the dance?"

"Uhm," I nervously fingered the rest of my uneaten sandwich and tried to ignore the way that Warren shifted uncomfortably next to me. "I haven't really thought about it."

"You should come," She smiled sweetly. "It'll be a lot of fun."

Before I could say anything more to her, however, the bell rang signaling the end of the lunch period and caused me to lift myself from my seat beside Warren to venture to our Mad Science class. We had a minute to ourselves whilst Medulla collected his papers for the class – this period was dedicated to a test about shrink rays – and I took the time to thank Warren one last time for the help that he and his mother had given me several days prior.

"Hey," I nudged him softly to get his attention after we had both pulled out our textbooks. "I-I wanted to say thank you...again. For everything."

He took a deep breath, as if he was trying to muster the courage to say something, and then let it out slowly.

"I'm an angry person," He admitted, meeting my eyes. "But I didn't think that anything would make me as angry as I used to be with my dad."

I stayed silent at that; we hadn't talked about his father much before and I wasn't intending on bringing the topic up anytime soon, so to hear him bring it up was a first. Especially considering the fact that if anyone else mentioned his father in his vicinity Warren would try to torch them like he did with Will, I wanted to be cautious with what I said or not say anything at all. The only information I had gotten about Baron Battle ever before was drawn from live television when he used to go on his rampages, fueled by rage and burning everything in his path. It always took a lot to stop him each time or at least scare him away, but when the Commander finally caught him the relief was felt far and wide. In fact, if the Baron had been so abusive and terrifying for the entire nation, what made Warren so angry with the Stronghold family for putting him away? Shouldn't he have been slightly thankful that the reign of terror his father had held over the city was over? That millions of lives were saved and the the people didn't have to worry about being burned alive anymore? Despite all of the questions I had about the topic, I chose to lock them away for the time being; I didn't want to have a deep conversation and upset him by digging too far.

No other words were shared – Medulla had begun to hand out the tests and we were soon consumed by the array of questions in front of us. I had been doing relatively good in all of my courses except for Mad Science, and since I had been exposed to such traumatic events I hadn't had time to study for the upcoming test. Mid-terms were going to be happening soon, so if I didn't get my act together soon I would be screwed. So, nervously taking out my pencil and trying to muster up any knowledge I had about shrink rays, I began to write. I stumbled my way through what felt like University level engineering questions, terms I was certain I had never heard before and diagrams that were most definitely NOT shrink rays. By the end of the period I was trembling nervously and trying to convince myself that maybe it wasn't so bad, when in all reality I knew that it was.

Warren seemed to detect some slight anxiousness afterwards as we made our way silently to Save the Citizen, but didn't say anything until after we were seated and changed into our gym clothes. Boomer hadn't commented on my tattoos yet – leading me to assume that Sky High didn't have a policy against tattoos or piercings (the multiple studs on my face proved that) – nor called me to play Save the Citizen, so I continued to hide towards the back of the stands with Warren each gym class in hopes that Boomer wouldn't spot me. I was fortunate again this class, and watched as two students were selected as per usual to fight against our local school villains, Lash and Speed. The bullies hadn't done much to me in my time here, perhaps completely passing by my existence and only noting me as Warren Peace's friend, which gave them all the more reason not to bother me. Either way, I saw that they were cruel bullies and each time they were beat I let a haughty smirk shine on my face. It was then, after the match had been going on for a good three minutes and Speed and Lash were gradually being beaten, that Warren spoke up.

"How are your classes?" He asked, his tone laced with a clear hint that he knew what was going on.

"Not too bad," I grimaced. "Mad Science is killing me, though. I can't get the hang of what Medulla is saying."

There was a beat of silence as we watched Speed get tossed to the other side of the gym thanks to a girl with the power to emit shock waves.

"I could help," Warren offered, satisfied to have figured out what was bugging me. "It's not so hard once you learn some tricks. Medulla makes it sound a lot more complicated than it actually is."

"You'd do that?" I smiled, surprised at his willingness to help me out with schoolwork. "Really?"

"Sure," He shrugged, letting a slight smirk play on his lips. "Besides, I've been wanting to see your new place for awhile."

"Well you're not missing much," I laughed, shaking my head at the thought of the very bare apartment. "It looks like an asylum right now."

"I'll see if I can get that dresser over tonight after our shift," He offered, meeting my eyes and looking over the still healing injuries on my face. "That ok?"

"Yeah – that'd be nice," I let a grin spread over my face, realizing now that Warren was probably the closest person I had at the moment. I hadn't had a lot of friends in my past; most were just drinking buddies or people with trap houses in the neighborhood that were used as a bed for a night – and nearly all of them hadn't bothered to keep in touch once I had lost contact. Warren, on the other hand, was someone who obviously understood where I came from and genuinely cared for me. He wanted my safety and was concerned with my happiness and comfort levels, and was visibly aware of my discomforts and how to handle them. He was the sole person who I had let myself get close to after all of these years I believed that getting close was the wrong objective. He defied that theory and had disproved my logic that closeness equaled an advantage over the other being.

A large bang caused us both to turn our heads back towards the match going on in the arena, and we watched as Lash, tied up to a beam on the roof thanks to a super with his wings, and Speed surprisingly out of breath and crouching in the corner, relinquished to their opponents. The heroes had won, and I felt a smile appear on my face because of it. Save the Citizen had never been my favorite class – half of it was watching people be tortured in the arena and the other half was trying to avoid Speed and Lash's wandering eyes as they selected their next prey – but I had to admit, it had it's advantages sitting next to Warren. People were less likely to pick us as opponents because of his stature, and people barely noticed my tiny frame huddled beside him, so we considered ourselves relatively safe from the game every class. Still, it was an unfair game considering the first chosen team got to pick their opponents and could select weaker teams to trump them each time. You played until you lost, so until the team picked a pair of opponents worthy to give them a chance at losing, we were pretty much watching the same team kick ass for the entire gym class. Fortunately however, Speed and Lash liked a challenge, and this time they had been beaten.

Warren and I followed behind the sea of people to the change rooms, meeting on the other side after we had reverted back into our regular clothing and making our way to the bus. It was nice being close with him; I felt safe and wanted, particularly because he let in so little people that I felt extremely special being the one that he wanted near. I could feel myself growing more and more attached as the days went by – it was funny how all of this had started simply by co-habitating our lunch table the first day of school but in all reality, I hadn't expected him to affect my life so much in such a short time span. Despite his outwards stature, Warren seemed like a good man with an honest heart, and I found myself very deeply attracted to him not only because of his physical appearance but because of his tendencies. He was protective, and whilst anti-social, very greater-good-orientated and knew right from wrong. I believed the side responsible for dragging me out of the mess that had been my life was the hero side that he had contracted from his mother, which rendered him even more desirable and only made my thoughts about him increase in positivity. Although everyone believed him to be exactly like his dad, Warren was far from it, and had more of his mother inside of him than Baron at all.

We worked our shift at the Paper Lantern in silence as well, our only contact being smiling subtly to each other as we passed by on our way to the kitchens or occasionally bumped hips and shoulders as we waited our tables. I liked the contact that I made with him as well; it proved that there didn't always need to be words shared for a connection to be made between two people. The speed of our getting to know each other left me at ease and allowed breathing room, which helped with the looming cloud of anxiety caused by Layla and her friends each day at the table. It wasn't dislike that I had for them, merely a certain discomfort that was caused by their almost _too_ sociable ways. Magenta had a tendency to bring up sensitive topics, whilst Zack – the boy almost always donned in yellow – was incredibly loud and liked to rap. Ethan, on the other hand, couldn't stop spewing brainiac nonsense, and Layla was just too plain talkative about everyone and everything in general. It was nerve wracking and horribly friendly, as awful as I realized that sounded. Despite all of that, I was feeling myself grow a tiny bit more used to their behavior each lunch, and if I knew myself at all, I realized that that would mean that sooner rather than later I would begin to grow comfortable with them too.

"I'll be over in a bit with the furniture," Warren gave me a wave as he set off towards his home and I simply made my way over to the back door of my building. I responded with a smile and a wave of my own, happy that I would see him again so soon.

I spent the half an hour he took to get back to my apartment making pasta and listening to the radio; the silence had gotten better and had stopped ringing in my ears, finally granting me the ability to sleep without some random channel blaring in my ear. My heart practically leapt out of my chest each morning when I rose abruptly to the sound of a random radio channel, so it was nice to finally wake to the simple sound of my cheap alarm clock. The thing barely worked itself half of the time, but it served it's purpose of getting me back into the schedule of waking up at seven thirty to catch the bus.

There was an abrupt knock at the door signaling Warren's return, causing me to break out of my thoughts and rush to turn off the stove. The door was opened to reveal one Warren Peace, who didn't look like he was having any trouble at all carrying the heavy dresser. It was nice and big, promising to fit all of my clothing that I had recently been tossing all over the floor into it. I greeted him somewhat shyly and then ushered him in, pointing him towards the only private room beside the bathroom and instructing him to place the new piece of furniture against the wall opposite the window. I felt a slight stir in my abdomen as I watched his muscles work to place it securely against the wall, and willed myself to not get caught up in a daze before he noticed. He handed me my duffel and took a seat on the mattress, watching me as I began to unpack my clothing and simply grunting when I thanked him for bringing it all the way here.

"Did it fit in your car?" I asked as I placed my sweaters and pants down in the bottom drawer. Since I had been so messy in my past, I willed myself to care about my cleanliness in the future.

"Barely," Warren chuckled, eyeing the posters in my room that he hadn't seen before. "Grateful Dead, huh?"

"Yeah," I smiled at the poster next to Led Zeppelin's _Mothership_. I enjoyed classic rock, and was very happy that I had found someone who enjoyed it just as much. It was too easy to judge people on their selected genre of music nowadays – I didn't understand why everyone shoved their music taste's down each others throats when it was easy enough to just accept someone else's taste as different. "I've always liked their stuff."

"And Alice Cooper apparently," Warren chuckled slightly, gazing at the two different Alice Cooper posters side by side on my walls. "He's...unique."

"What," I faked a gasp. "You don't like Alice Cooper?!"

"He's a bit too strange for me," Warren admitted, showing off his smile again as his eyes shifted to the other posters. "Iggy Pop is alright – I can agree with that."

He nodded around the rest of the room, looking at the artwork of AC/DC, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Radiohead, The Pixies, The Rolling Stones and Rush. He seemed to approve of all of them, until he laid eyes on the one right above my two stacked mattresses that made my pathetic excuse for a bed. I had yet to get a pillow and sheets, which made this all much more embarrassing, but I was planning on doing a major shopping spree with the money I had earned sooner rather than later. Funnily enough however, Warren was less concerned at the fact that I was at risk of having neck cramps at night and instead chose to comment on the Green Day poster sitting above my makeshift bed.

"Green Day?" Warren paused at the last poster on my wall. "One of your tattoos was from Green Day, wasn't it?"

"Yes," I nodded, packing away the last of my shirts and grateful that he had been turned whilst I was placing my underwear away. "It's St. Jimmy's cross."

I didn't explain any further on the topic, partially because he didn't ask and partially because I felt that if he truly was interested in it, he could Google it himself and learn more about it. Ever since Mike had lived with us and began to bash my interests down to pulp, I always felt that the people around me truly weren't interested in what I had to say or my hobbies. Therefore, my explanation of things was always cut short because I was used to the idea that no one really wanted to hear any more than a couple words, and that my perspective wasn't always worth it. Warren had slightly helped in this regard, but it was still difficult to communicate sometimes. My insecurities were still holding me back from doing a lot of things, but gradually I was regaining my confidence back.

"I made pasta," I led Warren back into the main room where I placed my unused duffel bag in the hall closet. "I hope it's not too repulsive."

"I'm sure it's fine," Warren assured, laughing and showing off his smile again. I held myself back from staring each time he showed off his grin – both he and his father held a remarkable facial structure – and although his father had been a horrible person, I was glad that Warren had retained his good looks.

"Oh," I looked around as I realized that we would have to sit on the floor. "By the way, I don't have anywhere to sit."

"Bed?" He offered, eyeing me strangely. I wasn't certain, but I was sure that I saw a glimpse of something in his eyes as soon as the word came out of his mouth. I ignored it, nodding instead and dishing the pasta out to the cheap plastic plates I had picked up from the dollar store. I handed a plate to him, also giving him an equally cheap plastic fork and did the same process for myself. We both grabbed our books and headed to the bedroom, beginning to eat in silence.

"You want an amp?" Warren asked in between a bite, gazing at the stack of CD's that sat in one corner of the room.

"For real?" I was almost ecstatic. Whilst there were building rules about the level of noise, I was sure that I would be able to get away with a couple of decibels before all of the adults in the building came home from work some afternoons. I was dying to find a way to listen to my music recently – my CD player had been broken for awhile and I hadn't exactly prioritized music over reading (speaking of which, the massive pile of books in another corner of my room needed a home soon, so my next purchase would most likely involve a shelf of some sort) so my CD's had gone untouched until now. An amplifier would truly be a blessing.

"Yeah," He shrugged, picking up more pasta with his fork. "I've got a spare one."

"Thank you," I briefly wondered how the hell I was ever going to repay Warren and his mother. They had already done such a ridiculous amount for me in terms of gestures and I knew that nothing I ever did could amount to how they had helped. Yet, somewhere deep inside, I believed that Cyclone knew this, and wasn't expecting a gesture in return. The thought comforted me, and I let a light smile touch my eyes.

After we had finished our meals, Warren was quick to pick up the pace about what I was struggling with in terms of Mad Science, and I was quick to point out that I had barely understood anything so far. After an hour or two of basically reiterating everything that Medulla had tried to teach me so far, Warren understood that I was a good auditory learner if the process was explained to me correctly. The way Medulla ran his classes was too harsh and fast, but when Warren explained everything it was slow and well paced, pausing when I had questions and explaining the answers to those as well. It took until the sun went down, but by the end of it I had a much better grip on how the things in the class connected. Our books and papers, where I had been taking notes on our current upcoming subject about shock rays, lay scattered all over the bed as I finished up my final points on what Warren was saying. He had been reading out of the textbook and pausing at the end of every two lines, rephrasing what he had just said so that I could understand better and explaining it to be in a different fashion if I still couldn't get it after the second time around. He really was a patient tutor, and it was showing in my understanding of the course.

"You're a better teacher than Medulla," I snorted, shoving hair out of my face with a huff and growing even more frustrated with my Mad Science teacher. It was the staff's job – just like Principle Powers had mentioned – to make our 'journey' at Sky High as comfortable and easy as possible. As far as I was concerned, Medulla and Boomer were more concerned with making our journey as difficult as possible. They might have called it a challenge, but to everyone else it was just plain torture.

"Oh yeah?" Warren smiled again, causing me to grin at the sight of it. It was wonderful to see him smile – I had barely seen him smile the first month that I had been around him, and it dawned on my now just how happy I got when I saw _him_ happy. "Think of _me_ as a T.A. It'd be horrible."

I laughed at the thought, thinking of how ridiculous it would be if Warren assumed that position instead of the pink and 'lovable' Gwen Grayson, the school's popular techno path that always held the hand of Will when there was any free time. He would most likely scare any freshmen off before they could answer any questions, knowing him. I could just see it now – his tall intimidating figure slouched into the back desk of the room, only raising his eyes when the name of a freshman was called to sit beside him and glaring at them until they practically dissolved on the spot. It would be a terrifying scene indeed. As our laughter subsided, Warren pulled out his phone to check the time and conceded that it was time for him to head home. His mother had flown out to China on an emergency call, which meant that he would have to watch the house for the night and – as he pointed out with a very serious look on his face – feed the fish. I nearly let out a chortle of laughter, but upon realizing that he was one hundred percent serious about the aquatic pet, I let out a smile instead. It was quite comical; big lumbersome Warren owning a tiny little fish that he was slave to feeding every night, especially in the one habitat that Warren felt most uncomfortable with.

I packed away the pasta whilst he pulled on his coat – muscles disappearing underneath the tough leather once again – and grabbed his bag filled with textbooks.

"I'll see you tomorrow Elle," He nodded, warm eyes staring at me from a little distance away.

"Thank you for everything," I smiled softly, pushing some hair out of my face again. "It helped a lot."

"Oh – and I was gonna say," He paused with his hand on the doorknob, just about to open the door. "...you should come to homecoming."

"I should?" There was a strange kind of lump in my throat as my eyes widened a bit, locking with his.

"Yeah," He breathed, letting a slight smirk show before delivering his motive behind the persuasion. "Come on, I can't be the only mopey one there."

"Goodnight Warren," I laughed, letting him go and getting one last glimpse of his grin. "I'll think about it."

Obviously, as I watched him walk down the small corridor towards the elevator, I couldn't help but wonder if that had been his real motive behind his mention of homecoming. It was clear that Layla wasn't his real date, and because of that, I felt a sense of security and a warm pang of something else in my stomach. I didn't exactly want to confront what the pang was, but it felt frighteningly familiar and came along with the stirring feeling of another emotion. After not being able to feel it for a certain amount of time from any of the people that I was supposed to feel it from, one would have assumed that my instinct to detect it would have disappeared. But the feeling in my gut rang clear, and I knew exactly what I was feeling with no doubt in my head. It was affection.


	7. Hurt

**Hurt**

It was a Wednesday during a Save the Citizen period when my luck failed me.

Lash had spotted my tiny frame cowering by Warren's side and had called me out, also selecting Tory, a girl with sonic screaming, in the process. I wasn't excited about my villains nor my partner in battle. Warren had to coax me for a good minute to be able to pry my fingers off of his shirt, and at that point I was still trembling as I made my way into the locker room to change into my protective gear. I didn't exactly feel like walking around deaf for the rest of the day, and I wasn't sure how the hell I was supposed to contribute to this match when the only thing I could do was heal wounds. I would be an easy target, but Speed and Lash didn't know that quite yet. Unfortunately, this didn't exactly work to my advantage, and just as I suspected the minute that Boomer's whistle went off I was trapped in Lash's winding mess of stripey arms. I didn't even bother struggling, just waited for a chance for my partner to get hurt so that I could begin my struggle at the opportune moment.

"Not even gonna struggle?" Lash sounded slightly confused as he stopped wrapping layers of arms around me.

"I can't," I shook my head as we both flinched – along with the rest of the gym who was lucky enough to be able to cover their own ears – when Tory defended herself against Speed's tornado tactic by releasing one of her screams.

"Well why not?" He seemed slightly put out by the fact that I wasn't fighting back. "Don't you want to Save the Citizen?"

"I can't!" I repeated, getting frustrated. I didn't exactly want to scream to the whole gym that my power's didn't let me defend myself.

"Oh," The bully caught on, a knowing tone taking over his voice. "I get it – you're one of the useless ones."

"No I'm not!" I argued, trying to look up at his tall figure behind me. "I help."

"Oh really? How, pipsqueak?" He countered, tightening his grip and making me wheeze just like Mike used to do. The rage after feeling that familiar feeling, mixed in with the anger I felt as I watched Tory get tossed to the ground unconscious in front of me after letting out an ear splitting super scream, caused me to land a swift kick to Lash's un-padded groin area and have him release his grip on me. I dove towards Tory, ignoring Speed's large figure – stumbling with both hands on his ears after so many sound waves affecting them – looming towards me and tried to focus on healing Tory. It only took about five seconds – bringing someone's brain back from a coma wasn't very difficult nor time consuming at all – and a couple more beats of collective silence until Tory was back up on her shaky feet. It was safe to say that several of the kids were shocked.

"Cheater!" Someone yelled out from the stands. "That's cheating!"

"Coach!" Lash yelled from the ground, still in pain from the kick I had delivered to his family jewels. "That's not fair!"

"No foul!" Boomer disagreed, whistling twice and continuing the match. Speed had finally made his way over to us, and continued to build the tornado around us even though it was slightly shaky after his eardrums had taken so much damage. Tory let me know in advance to cover her ears, and then let out the loudest scream I had ever heard in my life causing glass to shatter somewhere in the distance and the entire arena to cover their ears. Unfortunately, her tactic only worked against getting us out of Speed's whirlwind, but not to save the fake human being tied around a piece of rope that fell straight into the whirring metal blades.

Our citizen had been mulched, and with a whistle and a bang, the last thing I remembered seeing was Layla's horrified face in the stands before I face planted onto the ground.

* * *

I woke in the infirmary, bright lights shining in my face and an old nurse snapping her fingers in my face. Coming to abruptly, I immediately snapped into a seated position and basically fainted all over again, only staying up for enough time to catch the faces of Warren, Layla and the rest of the gang we ate lunch with. Perfect – now the entire school not only knew that I was a healer, but also that I had the one weakness I could hold on out them. I came to the second time with the same nurse shining her lights in my face and his time pinching my cheeks, causing me to lift a hand to shove her fingers away as she began to speak to me.

"Eleanor? I'm Nurse Spex," Her voice was gravely, yet kind despite her fuddy-duddy appearance. Two pigtails stuck themselves on either side of her head, and two bright red earrings sat on hear ears. It was the cutest old nurse I had ever seen. "Eleanor, you're at the nurse's office. You had an accident during Save the Citizen. Do you remember any of this?"

Slowly but surely, my memory was returning with no other signs of brain damage besides wooziness, and I nodded my head up and down whilst trying to avoid plastering a grimace on my face. I was unsure if my inevitable companions were still here – but if they were I would definitely need to thank them for coming to my aid. It was clear that Speed had knocked me out after the match; despite his victory he was clearly pissed off about his perforated eardrums and how Tory and I had somehow gotten close to beating him at the game him and his best friend championed.

Suddenly, my thoughts were abandoned as a burning smell hit my nose; one that I could only assume was coming from a certain hothead nearby.

"Mr. Peace," Nurse Spex cleared her throat, glaring across the room. "Stop smoking."

I turned my head slightly, granting me the view of Zack, Ethan, Magenta, Layla and Warren – who was the only one pacing angrily with fumes of smoke drifting off of him. He was absolutely furious, and if I knew him well at all I would also know that he was likely to burst into flames at any moment.

"Warren," I muttered slowly as I watched his head snap towards me, finding that it took all of my energy to speak. I had never been knocked out by someone like the likes of Speed before; clearly his powers made the injury all that worse because I had never had side effects as bad as these when Mike had beaten me. Everything felt like molasses and sluggish; like I needed extra effort to do everything but was still going twice as slow. "Please stop. You're making the entire room spin."

He stopped with a scowl, and simply settled for sitting on the chair beside my stretcher, placing his head in his hands and trying to control the heat rolling off of him in waves. Nurse Spex simply gave him a short glare, helping me up into a sitting position after conducting a series of questions and then asked me some more once it was clear that I was going to be somewhat alright. She toggled on her laser vision – which didn't help at all with my shock – and examined me for any internal damage. Finally, she wrote several things down on her clipboard and fixed me with a strange look.

"A healer that can't heal herself," She twiddled her pencil in between her fingers. "That's strange..."

I didn't have the energy to do much more than nod, feeling the stares of my companions as they looked towards me and tried to decipher what was going on. I was certain that I would be faced with many questions not only from them, but most likely from the rest of the school when the word spread around. From what it seemed so far, the gossip here traveled on an information superhighway, and whether it was in between classes or in washrooms, word spread faster than you could say 'that bitch!'. So inevitably, I was screwed, and so was my secret keeping.

"Speed's suspended for a week," Layla mumbled from her spot in her chair, trying to clear the tension but obviously not helping Warren's case. "Warren almost killed him."

"What?" I scrunched my face up towards the hippie, still trying to wrap my head around the incident.

"Almost burnt him alive," Magenta cut in, staring at the black lump that was Warren. "Alice Jenkins had to step in and stop him."

"Who's Alice Jenkins?" I made another face and trying to stop the spinning in the room by watching Nurse Spex stack medical kits into a drawer.

"Ice Queen," Zack clarified, arms crossed over his bright yellow shirt. It almost made me faint all over again looking at it. "Total bitch."

"To be fair," Magenta shrugged, countering her crush's insult. "She did help."

I looked at the boy sitting on the chair nearest to me, and watched the way his shoulders tensed and relaxed, over and over again. He was still trying to calm himself down, using muscle relaxation tactics he had most likely learned from his mother. It was no wonder that he was so well controlled around her; she was the one person who had taught him how to control the ball of anger inside of _himself_. What I didn't know, however, was that Warren's protective feelings towards me had gone this far. I hadn't expected him to nearly explode with rage and kill one of the students simply for knocking me out. I understand anger and malicious tendencies, but I hadn't expected to hear him go full psycho against a student of the same power level. This indicated very strong feelings towards me, but this kind of behavior wasn't acceptable nor sustainable in the long run. If Warren wanted to succeed in defending anything, he needed to learn to control his anger instead of killing anything that laid hands on his loved ones. There was a reason Maxville wanted their villains kept alive, and Warren needed to understand that it was the same reason his father was being kept alive at the moment.

"Warren man," Zack butted in. "Why'd you do that? You didn't have to go all out – now you're gonna get suspended too."

Warren said nothing, only lifting his head up when Nurse Spex had given me the all clear to stand up and made sure that I was ok to stand. As it turned out, I wasn't, and the first step I took resulted in a buckled knee and my entire weight leaned on Warren. He didn't struggle whatsoever, instead patiently helping me to regain my lost footing and picking my bag up off the floor to hand it to me when he was certain that I was alright. He still hadn't said anything, but his jaw was clenched tight and I assumed that meant he was still holding a ball of rage inside of him. Our eyes made intense contact briefly, before we began to walk slowly with our little pod of freshmen trailing behind us. I vaguely registered Nurse Spex reminding me to come back if I felt anything going on, and that she wanted to talk to me about my powers sooner rather than later. I stored that in the back of my fuzzy mind for the moment, trying to figure out what time it was and realizing that only about an hour had gone by since the match. I groaned, causing the group to look at me in question, and was forced to explain myself.

"It's only lunch?" I griped, slouching my shoulders and feeling my body begin to regain some of it's energy.

"Yeah," Warren spoke his first words in a long time, taking a deep yet shaky breath. "My thoughts every day."

"How sad," Layla muttered behind us, grabbing me a tray as we filed into the lunch line. "Do you really feel that way?"

"Yes," His monotone answer responded, and Layla accepted that that was the end of the conversation.

We got our food amidst the random groups of stares, and for the first time ever, actually sat down at our lunch table as a group. I knew it was torture for Warren; he wanted peace and tranquility but never got the hour of it that he deserved with our recent adjustments to the table. Some days we managed to escape to the front lawn to read, but it was difficult to get away from Layla and her keen eyes. I pulled my book out, taking a couple bites of lunch and finding that whilst my eyes were still adjusting to the light, my ability to read was one hundred percent. This set my mind a bit more at ease, and I was pleased to find that the four freshmen gave Warren and I space whilst we read in peace for the lunch hour. Sitting next to the warm pyrokinetic whilst enjoying the silence that was given to us was most likely the best way to quell the anxiety that came with the recent traumatic event. I was going to have to mention what had happened to my therapist; these kinds of incidents were not to be taken lightly and could provide a gateway for old harmful feelings to resurface.

Speaking of old harmful feelings, it was a couple days later that I decided to give my mother a call. It had taken me several days to think about it; I had been eyeing the payphone next to the Paper Lantern for awhile and trying to convince myself that I had given her a little bit of time to heal, but I was still too shaky to pick up the phone. It was slightly ridiculous, in all reality – she didn't have any reason to be angry with me and in fact it was me that should have been angry with her, but still I was too nervous to slide a coin into the slot and dial the number that had been given to me on a card that read 'Maxville Rehabilitation Services'. I figured that perhaps what I was truly scared of was picking up the phone and hearing a distant empty shell of a person instead of my mother, or simply the same one that I had left behind. The situation had caused some minor anxiety for me within the past several days, but it was now after my late night shift at the Paper Lantern, that I found myself dialing the number off of the card.

It rang for a couple seconds, then a receptionist picked up on the other end.

" _Maxville Rehabilitation Services,"_ She began with a light airy tone, something that I hadn't expected from a receptionist at that kind of facility. _"What can I help you with today?"_

"Uh," I paused, feeling a pit of nervousness in my stomach. "I'd like to speak with Sarah Rhodes?"

" _Do you know which section she's in?"_ The woman asked, clacking away on her keyboard so loudly that I could hear it on my end.

"Hold on..." My eyes flitted to the card, where I spotted a little number in the right hand corner that read '4'. "Yes – she's in four."

" _That's intensive care,"_ The receptionist notified me, pausing for a brief moment as if I hadn't been aware of the fact. _"May I ask who's calling?"_

"Her daughter," My tone shifted a bit, and I supposed that the receptionist noticed, because a minute later she was typing even more furiously and assured me that I would get to speak with her.

" _It might take a little bit to get through,"_ She continued. " _I have to notify one of the nurses that your mother's got a call. Stay on the line and I'll transfer you."_

"Thank you," I fiddled with my eyebrow piercing as I waited, stomach twisted into a knot and tension high. A minute later there was a soft beep and a second woman began to speak with me.

" _Is this Sarah Dower's daughter calling?"_

"Yes," I nodded, even though she couldn't see me.

" _Just one second,"_ The woman placed me on hold for a minute and then returned, speaking to someone on the other end in a muffled tone before she granted me contact with my mother. _"Here she is."_

Although I heard soft breathing on the other side of the phone, my mouth seemed to glue itself shut and I couldn't formulate any words. So many things had happened in this short time span that it seemed my brain was overloading on what it wanted to say. Thankfully, my mother stepped up to the plate and took the first crack at a conversation, causing all of my previous insecurities to melt away at the sound of her normal tone. I hadn't heard it in a very long time and just hearing it made my tears ducts activate.

" _Eleanor?"_ Her shy, completely sober tone was flooded with guilt; it was clear that she was in deep emotional trauma and just hearing her voice made me glad that she was in good hands.

"Mom?" I gripped the telephone until my knuckles turned white, trying very hard not to cry and keep it all together.

" _Oh Eleanor,"_ My mother immediately began to sob, causing several tears to fall on my side as well. I, however, had practiced holding in my emotions for years, and had a little bit of a better grip than my mother. It wasn't that the situation didn't warrant tears – heck, my entire life warranted a flood of tears – but since I assumed we only had a limited time on the phone, I wanted to let her know that I was safe.

" _I'm so sorry,"_ She continued to cry, and I could almost picture the heavy sobs wracking her tiny frame. _"I-I understand if you never wanted to see me again."_

I didn't exactly know where to go from that; yes it was clear that behavior like this merited a lot of anger towards her, but as soon as she mentioned it I found myself not wanting to confront that at all. I definitely didn't want to see her for a long period of time; that was certain. The way she had chosen to live her life had caused hell for me, and she hadn't been able to climb out of the stupor she had put herself into even for her own daughter. I wasn't exactly angry with her, but the portion of my heart that felt for her was completely blocked up. There was no affection on her end all of those years, and just because she was sorry now didn't mean she had understood what I had gone through. I had been through hell, and she hadn't done a thing about it. In fact, she had been sitting right beside the devil himself and had continued listening to her own voices telling her that Mike was helping and that although he was abusive and cruel, he got things paid at the end of the day and that excused everything. She had chosen to turn a blind eye to my struggle and mask it with an addiction, and for that I wasn't sure if I could ever forgive her.

"Mom," I began, forming a steel wall around myself and choosing not to comment on my feelings towards what she had let happen to me for all of these years. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm safe – I'm on welfare and living on my own. I got a part time job and I'm still in school."

There was very little noise on the other end besides her distant crying, as if she understood that I wasn't going to talk about my feelings and that only made her cry harder. I didn't know what she had been expecting; there was a lot of healing involved in this process and my mother wouldn't be able to clear her part out just by saying 'sorry'. Words could go a long way, but not after years of abuse. There was no excuse for that.

"I hope you're doing better," I added, my tone now completely flat. Whilst before I had been on the brink of tears despite my strong mental walls, now I found myself totally void of emotion. "I hope rehab is nice."

She didn't say anything, but I heard her cries fade away and someone else pick up the phone. It was the nurse, confirming that my mother had gone back to her room and that she didn't want to talk anymore. I nearly scoffed and suppressed the urge to smack the phone back on the receiver rudely, but held myself back and instead politely thanked the woman before hanging up the filthy phone. Whilst I had been expecting the whole conversation to shake me, I found myself relatively calm as I turned the corner to the building on my way to the entrance to the apartments. The best way I could describe it was a calm after a storm, when all the destruction had been put behind you and the only thing you could do at the moment was take a deep breath and remind yourself that the danger was past.

I approached the door, eager to take a hot shower and rid myself of all of the dirt and grime I had collected in gym class during the past several days, when I spotted Warren. He was leaning on the side of his car – the only one parked in the entire lot – fiddling with his keys in one hand and looking at his phone with the other. I didn't know what exactly he was waiting for; unless he had a friend meeting him here there was only one logical explanation. I approached him, fidgeting with my saddlebag and ready to ask why exactly he was still here waiting for me on a Friday night at ten o'clock.

"Warren?" His head snapped up at the mention of his name, and he rose to a full standing position as I got closer. "What are you doing here?"

"I was gonna ask you if you wanted to go to IKEA," A small smile began to form itself on his lips. "It's open until twelve and I know you really want furniture."

Needless to say I was slightly surprised at his proposal, and slightly suspicious that he had overheard some of the telephone conversation. Him and Cyclone had been nice enough to help me out when I was in need and I would be forever in debt to them for that portion of my life – but from here on out was where I needed to keep things between my mother and me private. At this point she wasn't capable of doing anything more to me, so it was pointless for Warren or anyone else to know about her calls. Nevertheless, I didn't want to think about the situation anymore, so I agreed to take a trip to the furniture store as a distraction.

"What made you think of going to IKEA on a Friday night?" I snorted as I slid into his car, the familiar smell overwhelming my nostrils. "Are you that much of a loser?"

" _We_ ," He corrected casually, pulling on his seat belt with a slight grin and looking behind him as he backed the car up. " _We_ are a pair of losers, yes."

"Thanks," I laughed, shaking my head as we sped out of the lot and towards the main district of town. I liked this plan much better than spending a night alone in my apartment; truth be told I had made a trip to the liquor store yesterday and bought myself several bottles of rum intending on drinking them tonight, but was more content with spending extra time with Warren and getting more furniture for my apartment. It was nice being close to someone who was on the same wavelength as you; Warren offered that and much more for me, and being friends with him was more like a nice cool drink on a hot day rather than a bowling ball of anxiousness in the pit of my stomach like the other kids were.

"So," I began once we had been cruising comfortable for a good couple of minutes with _Muse_ playing on the radio. "How's the anger doing?"

"S'ok," Warren grimaced. "Wednesday was terrible."

"Yeah," I nodded my head, glad that he had pinpointed the issue before I brought it up. I was going to shift the conversation in that direction, but Warren had already done that for me. "Did Powers say anything about it?"

"No," His jaw clenched and his hands tightened on the steering wheel. "My mom was pretty upset, though."

I made a little sound of understanding, glad that Speed had been suspended for a short period of time. It was probably enough for Warren to understand that reacting the way he did wasn't alright, and allowed him to regain some control over his anger before the offending student returned and rejoined his buddy. Lash, on the other hand, had taken to hiding away every lunch. It was clear that without his friend he was nothing, and terrorizing the freshmen wasn't nearly as fun when there was only one person laughing. It was especially horrible for Lash to be all alone in detention by himself, so he had taken to stowing himself away instead of performing his little evil deeds. It was a nice breath of fresh air for everyone.

"But it's getting better," Warren assured, pulling my head out of my thoughts again as we pulled into the IKEA parking lot. It hadn't taken us long to drive up here thanks to the lonely late night city roads, and once we pulled into a spot he shut the rumbling engine off.

"Good," I murmured as he parked, eyes flitting around the parking lot to examine what other cars were there. It took a second, but I quickly figured out he was looking out for any suspiciously parked cars. It was a well known fact that a lot of stabbings and robberies took place in parking lots; many crooks would wait in cars until a vulnerable late night customer came by, then take advantage of the large open abandoned area. It was then that I realized just how protective Warren was. I hadn't noticed it before, but each of his little gazes – whether they were to the side during conversation, out of his peripherals when we were walking or around us in the hallway at school – each of them had a motive. He was constantly on guard; his eyes didn't stop searching until we were safe and secure each lunch in the cafeteria, or when we had sat down in class. I couldn't believe that I hadn't picked up on it before.

My thoughts were abandoned, however, when I spotted the bedding section on the first right hand side of the store. I set out towards it with a grin, ignoring Warren's laughter and jumping on the first one that I found.

"I want a bed like this," I smiled, closing my eyes and rubbing myself on the soft sheets. "This is like sleeping on a cloud."

"Well," Warren laid on an even comfier looking mattress and shot me a grin. "You've got a thousand to choose from, so I guarantee you'll find something comfier."

He was right.

I jumped from bed to bed, finding that each one was better than the next and flopping on them all until I found an acceptable, affordable bed. Since I had a limited budget I was going to have to be more cautious the rest of the trip, but managed to find a cheap bookshelf and couch that fit into my spending bracket. Warren stayed with me the entire time, providing commentary when he thought a piece of furniture that wasn't worth buying and simply nodding in approval when I found something he liked. The employees didn't look too excited to be organizing a furniture delivery right before closing, but we managed to work the details and it was then, whilst I was signing the last delivery form, that I asked Warren about his mention of the arrests the day we had turned my parents in. I nearly smacked myself when the question came out of my mouth, but it had been lingering on my tongue the entire trip and whilst I realized that that was no justification for this breach of personal information, I simply shut up and waited for an explanation. I could apologize later, and from the looks of it he hadn't taken the question badly at all. It took him a couple seconds to formulate a reply, but he spoke eventually.

"I used to call the police on my dad," He grunted, a frown marring his face as memories flickered in his eyes. "Sometimes they would just show up at our front door when we were fighting. Our neighbors didn't like us."

I stopped signing the form for a second and took in what he had just revealed, pretty much proving my assumption that him and Cyclone had been abused by Baron. He was known to be a particularly evil villain, so it didn't come as a shock that he was cruel with his family as well. I didn't know why the hell Cyclone stayed with him, but it was clear that she had been attracted to something in the twisted man. Warren, on the other hand, had to endure years of obvious torture under his father's hand. I couldn't imagine the kinds of fights that they would have had; Mike's fists were one thing, but two pyrokinetics going at it with the best of their abilities after an emotional flare up was an encounter that I never wanted to step near.

"I'm sorry," I admitted, empathy immediately flaring. I was sorry for what he had gone through and could genuinely say that I understood the feelings behind it. To be rejected and hurt by the people that were supposed to take care of you was one of the most horrible feelings in the world.

Warren simply shrugged, and didn't say anything else until we had finished signing the papers and were on our way back to the car in the abandoned lot. I felt much better; the phone call from my mother had been strange and unreal, so distracting myself for several hours had helped me forget all about it for the time being. I was still uncertain if Warren had been eavesdropping or not, but he said nothing about it and instead reverted the topic back to my most recent question.

"You're thinking of the ride to the hospital," He guessed as we slid back into his car. This time, he didn't start the engine right away. "When the cops thought I was the one that did this to you."

"They did?" I blanched, unaware that that had been their assumption when they had asked if his previous cases were 'related' to this one.

"My only defense was that I'd gone to anger management," He shook his head, leaning his head back on the driver's seat. "And after you told them how I helped you, I was no longer a suspect."

This was all news to me. I had thought that the fact that Warren was the one to bring me to the police station with his mother of all people was a pretty good indicator that he _wasn't_ the offender, but perhaps I had been wrong in assuming that the police wouldn't make that grossly ignorant assumption. If only I had known that Warren had already been arrested more than once I wouldn't have brought him with me at all – the last thing I wanted was to put him back into the police's eye sight, especially involved in a case that had to do with domestic violence. Perhaps it hadn't been so silly of the police to assume him of being a suspect, but I still found it frustrating and scary. It was scary to think that Warren might have spent some time in jail; it was scary to think that he had been arrested before and it was scary to think of the things that might have happened to him and his mother. I hadn't known any of that, and if I had known that there would have been a chance of him being suspected of being the abuser I would have left him out of the whole questioning mess in the first place. He had put himself under scrutiny to assist me through a hard day, and whilst I appreciated that, I wished that I could have avoided it.

"I didn't know that," I placed a hand over my face. "I didn't know any of this – Warren, I'm sorry for dragging you into this. I didn't mean for you to go through that again."

"You didn't drag me into anything," He muttered, looking over at me in the dark. "I wanted to help."

I didn't know what to say – it was obviously a bother that he had had to go through the police again, and I hadn't wanted him to feel any of the stress that he had felt before with his father, but it was clearly a choice that he had already made and it hadn't been my fault. He made that perfectly clear and reiterated it to me as he started the engine, guiding the car out of the now completely empty lot.

"None of it was your fault," He carefully steered around the light poles towards the general road. "I chose to do it."

I couldn't exactly stop myself from thinking that some things were my fault – I was a naturally guilty person that believed a lot of blame was meant to be stacked on top of me. But when my only friend reassured me that I was not, in fact, in the wrong and hadn't done anything, it gave me some breathing room and allowed me to find the clarity to realize that he was right. None of it _had_ been my fault and I had only done good for myself so far. I hadn't had bad intentions nor had I meant to put Warren and Cyclone through any stresses. I had simply been doing something good for myself and they had assisted me through a difficult time in my life. It was no longer about faults in my head anymore – I was able to see that I deserved a happy, safe and serene life and that someone helping me achieve that did not mean that I was indebted to them. This hadn't been clear to me before, so Warren's words comforted me greatly and set me at ease for the rest of the drive home. I could breathe much easier now.

"Get some sleep," Warren shot me a small smile as I clambered out of the car once he had stopped at the Paper Lantern. "Loser."

"Yeah yeah," I grinned as I collected my bag and pile of receipts out of the back seat. "You too loser."

He drove off with a final wave, and left me alone in the parking lot where I slowly made my way towards my apartment and reluctantly closed the door behind me. I didn't want to be alone, and the silence was back again – ringing in my ears like an annoying bug. Even the radio didn't help this time, so instead I resorted to taking a shower and trying to get some sleep. None of that worked, and now my head was beginning to plague me with flashbacks that shot tremors through my body and melted my stomach into a puddle of pure terror. I didn't like to refer to it as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder simply because I was afraid of big terms and didn't want to confront the fact that the possibility of me having something as bad as PTSD was very real. So, as a last resort to quell the horrid things processing themselves in my brain, I grabbed one of the bottles that I had purchased several days back and left next to my bedside, venturing into the kitchen and getting a can of pop as well. It took about an hour of rum shots and coca-cola to get me into a drunken mess, and I slid into bed, radio still blaring, and comfortably fell asleep despite my bladder's cries of complaint.


	8. Friends

**Friends**

 **A/N: I recognize that the party that happens where Gwen says those hurtful things to Layla doesn't actually occur now – it should have occurred much earlier and basically a couple nights after Warren and Layla talked at the Paper Lantern – but I have placed it as so just to space out events a bit more, considering the fact that the movie only takes place over a month because homecoming is a fall event and I wanted my story to drag out longer than that. Anyway, enjoy!**

Despite the fact that I had barely spoken to the other people sitting at Warren and I's table at lunch in the beginning, I found myself growing closer to them. There was no way of avoiding Layla's conversation, and Magenta wouldn't stop asking me about my tattoos, so each lunch I would get torn away from my book and dragged into conversation. It was uncomfortable at first, given that I wasn't used to conversing with so many people at once and there were constant awkward pockets in the conversations, but I got better at it over time. The people around me were interested in what I had to say and my personal interests, and as strange as that was I was starting to like it. It was easy to converse with Magenta about my tattoos since the topic came naturally to me, and when Layla and I got into a slow conversation about books I was thrilled to find that she enjoyed the same types of novels that Warren and I read. This surprised my closest friend to great extents, and caused him to have one of the first full conversations in his lifetime with Layla on the topic of literature. It seemed he had greatly underestimated his lunch table crew, but was now starting to realize – just as I was – that perhaps they weren't all that bad. Zach and Ethan were always happy to talk about movies as well as food, school drama and music, which made the conversation between us at the lunch table extremely hearty and set me back a couple chapters in my reading. Warren didn't seem to mind as long as I was sitting beside him; he had developed a desire for me to stay close and became upset if I changed my seating at the table. His explanation for it – as I questioned him fruitfully one afternoon – was that I was the only person he truly wanted sitting next to him during school, and that he was 'likely to fry anyone else like Popsicle or Glowboy that wanted to take my spot'. Speaking of the hothead himself, we had continued our book exchange and increased the amount of novels we switched each month from one to three. If I wasn't talking to our mutual friends, I would be comfortably seated in between Warren and Ethan, nose buried in my novel and eyes moving at the speed of light to cover as many words as possible before the lunch bell rang. Warren was much the same, although I had just recently realized that he took his reading at a much slower pace.

"Warren," I mentioned quietly one lunch period, as soon as I noticed that the speed of which he was turning the pages. "You read slow."

"How do you know?" He turned to look at me, scanning my face and letting slight smile turn up the corner of his mouth. "Were you looking at me?"

"No," I admitted, smiling back and feeling a slight blush rise to the surface of my cheeks. "You turn the pages slower."

"Well," Warren huffed, seemingly disappointed with the answer, and explained. "I read a lot of sentences twice – at least the important ones. And there are a lot of those, so I go slower."

"Holy hell," My eyes widened in shock. My brain hardly let me take in each sentence before it moved to the next one – I couldn't imagine grueling through books like Warren must have done. "How did you finish Moby Dick in under a month?!"

"Like I told you - I read when I can't sleep," He shrugged, turning back to his novel. We both continued reading until my frantic turning of the pages caught his attention. He obviously hadn't noticed it before, but now that I had brought up pace he had noticed mine as well. "You, on the other hand, are like a hyperactive chipmunk when you read."

"That's not true!" I blushed again, fully smiling this time because of the simple thought that I was clearly on his mind. "More like a...a normally paced squirrel. Maybe a little bit too excited."

"Nope," Warren shook his head, smile growing wider as he rose a brow. "You read like the world's gonna end tomorrow and your only priority is to finish _Ulysses_."

"Shut up," I mumbled, scrunching up my nose and staring down at James Joyce's novel. "I read just fine."

" _Sure_ ," Warren drawled jokingly, gently bumping my shoulder with his. "Loser."

There wasn't much I could say to that before the bell rang, ending our lunch period together and causing the whole table to get up in unison. Before I could venture off to class, however, I was stopped by Layla who asked me something I never thought anyone would have asked in a million years.

"Eleanor," She began, grabbing me by the arm and catching Warren's attention beside me as well. "Would you wanna come dress shopping with me and Magenta tomorrow?"

"A dress?" I grew confused as we continued walking towards the general direction of the hallway. "For what?"

"For homecoming..." She reiterated with a slight smile, laughing slightly as my lips formed themselves into an 'O' shape. "It's next week, and since you said you wanted to go we thought we'd ask!"

"Oh...I'm not sure," I looked at Warren – for no apparent reason I could muster – and then back at Layla.

I hadn't exactly thought this through; going to homecoming seemed more of a thing to do with a partner, and I didn't have one. I also didn't intend on spending a Friday night surrounded by parents, dressed up teachers and people I didn't know who planned on making awkward small talk until one of us was brave enough to part and break for food. A few friends was something I could handle, but homecoming seemed like a step too far. That, and also the fact that I hadn't dressed up since my preschool recital, caused my desire to attend this event very low. Despite this, there was one pulling factor in it all, and it was spending time with Warren. I didn't care if we were driving around or working shifts at the Paper Lantern; I loved being around him and found his presence to be extremely warm and comforting and wanted to take each and every opportunity presented to me to spend more time around him.

"Why not?" Warren leaned on the locker beside mine as we all stopped so that I could get my books out. He hadn't mentioned homecoming in a while, but it was clear that he still wanted me there. "We'll all be there."

"Yeah," Layla smiled, assuring me as I looked between them. "It'll be fun! And if you really don't want to be there after five minutes there's buses going back and forth all night."

"Well," I weighed the options in my head, reminding myself that it was important to crack out of the shell I had been sitting in for so long. "Alright – I guess I can give it a shot."

"That's the spirit!" The red haired freshman nodded, giving me a final grin before she bid us farewell and headed to her own class. Her positivity caused a smile to form itself on my face as I waved back – Layla was turning out to be a lovely girl, if not a little eccentric.

"She's sweet," I muttered guiltily as I closed my locker, realizing that I had denied myself the opportunity to gain a friend for a long time. "I like her."

"Hippie's alright," Warren admitted, pulling a face as we continued down the hallway. "Still can't understand why she wants a guy like Will."

"She said that they've been friends since preschool, no?" I remembered what Layla had told me about Will in the past couple of days. "If they've grown up together it's no wonder at all."

"Even with that," Warren held the classroom door open for me even though Hero History wasn't his block that period. "I would think she'd be grossed out by someone who was as close to her as a brother."

"You'd be surprised," I smiled, wiggling my eyebrows and clutching my books to my chest. "We women are confusing creatures."

"No kidding," Warren snorted, beginning to back away. "I'll see you later Elle."

"See ya," I smiled after him, taking a moment to watch his retreating figure heading towards his own locker before seating myself at the back of the classroom and waiting for the rest of the students in my class to file in. Hero History had been an interesting course so far – we had covered the first hero ever discovered and how the types of powers and their classifications flourished, as well as the discoveries of the mutant genetic makeup and the huge leaps that science had made by safely testing on supers. At the moment, we were covering traumatic events and happenings in history, and how some of the heroes that were still alive to this day had helped in emergencies. Overall it was an interesting course, but I felt rather frustrated with the fact that the kids in the hero track were the only ones that learned about this subject matter. This didn't seem to be particular to heroes only; we were learning about general events that affected the entire nation and sidekicks as well, so it was unfair to shield them from this kind of knowledge. I did, however, take into account that there was Hero Support history and that they probably learned their fair share of this subject matter as well. Regardless it was silly to divide each and every one of the courses offered at the school into Hero and Hero Support except for Save The Citizen – it made the school's obvious fascist complex even worse (except to the eyes of super parents) and caused even more segregation among the students, not to mention social rifts.

Our class began and Mr. Whitehall began to talk more about the famous bank robbery with Invisitron and Comblast (two villains that had specialized in robberies for years only to be caught later by The Commander and Jetstream), his white eyes shining brightly as his visible excitement about the topic shone through. If there was one thing I was sure of, it was that he loved the subject he taught and he taught it very well – I had no problems understanding the subject matter and enjoyed the lessons to great extents. The lesson flowed smoothly; he showed power point presentations and handed accurate news articles for us to look at as well as a video of the villain's capture. By the end of the period we had gained a better understanding of why it was important to always have young, generational functioning heroes who were willing to take on the role of sworn protectors to keep the city safe.

"Don't forget," Mr. Whitehall reminded the class as we began to exit the classroom at the end of the period, his white eyes shining. "You have your essays due next week on the importance of security systems and how they have assisted supers throughout the years - I want three references at the very least!"

There were some nods and some groans, but I ignored them and made a beeline to the exit. I generally liked getting to the change rooms first – the girls were fast to crowd and I wanted to make sure to get to the back of the bleachers so that I could hide away comfortably for the rest of the period. Boomer had seemed to understand my power enough to know that I was a weakling, so I still stowed myself away next to Warren's giant figure each class. Avoiding the mass of students that had gathered in the central hallway, I took a shortcut that Magenta had let me know about and used the back entrance to the girl's locker rooms to change. It wasn't that I was uncomfortable with my body – it was the simple fact that crowds caused my stomach to tie itself into knots, and it was worse if we were all in a small room. So, just as a large group of girls filled into the change room, I was already on my way out with my bag locked safely in a locker. I let out a sigh of relief; each time I avoided a crowd it felt like I had escaped a tornado or something of the sort. As soon as I spotted Warren on the bleachers I made a beeline towards him, marking it as my pillar of safety and letting out a long breath upon sitting down.

"In a rush?" He gave me a strange look before questioning my speed. "Are you hiding from someone?"

"Oh," I scoffed. "No – well, maybe Boomer...I don't want him to spot me if I'm out last, and the locker rooms get really claustrophobic."

"I see," Warren smiled. "So that's why you use me as a shield."

"Wh -" I spluttered, a blush forming itself on my cheeks for what seemed like the hundredth time that week. "I-I do not!"

"Right," Warren drawled, swinging his whole body towards me. "Is that why you practically folded into yourself behind me last class?"

"Oh alright," I moaned, giving up my charade. "I just don't want to get picked again. Last time was bad enough and Boomer is relentless."

"I'm teasing," My friend smiled, breaking his serious face. "Hide all you want."

"Thank you," I muttered sincerely, forcing a low rumbling chuckle out of him as the rest of the students filed in and the class started. "I appreciate that very much."

The first match was between Lash, Speed and two freshmen (Speed had recently come back to the school after a week of suspension and had caused poor Warren to basically shut down for an entire lunch to try and control his anger) who were both capable of controlling air. They seemed to be twins based on their similar facial structure and capabilities; they fought flawlessly and were giving the two school bullies a run for their money, but the villains had experience on their side and fought back just as hard. The match went on right to the buzzer – by the end of it Boomer had nearly fallen out of his seat three times from the powerful gusts of air and Speed was looking fairly disheveled, but the siblings were too distracted by their villains to realize that their citizen was very close to being mulched. Even with a last gust of air thrown it's way, the mannequin still fell into the mulcher and the villains were crowded winners. In the second match, however, it seemed almost certain that Speed and Lash would be defeated. One of the two heroes had telepathy – it was clear by the way he could easily predict his opponent's movements – and the other had invisibility. These partners clearly had a bit more experience than the freshmen, and focused their efforts much more on saving the citizen instead of attacking the villains. Whilst their defense was strong however, it was not concrete. Lash managed to catch the Invisible girl, whilst Speed focused his efforts on the telepathic boy. The game dragged on and on until finally their citizen was mulched as well, however this time Speed and Lash looked a little worse for the wear and slightly less confident in their win.

"Hit the showers!" The coach boomed from his high chair, yelling for the rest of the students to leave the gym as well. "Everybody get out of here!"

"I'll meet you by the buses?" I looked up at Warren, sharing a nod with him as we both disappeared into our change rooms. The girls room was stuffed to the brim, to say the least, so I quickly grabbed my things and changed in a bathroom stall, not wanting to deal with anyone eyes roaming over my body and possibly making comments that day.

Making record time through the crowded hallways to dump my books in my locker, I located bus number fifty three – the bus running to our neighborhood had what seemed to be the least amount of students on it – and boarded. As per usual Warren was in our typical seat at the back of the bus, and I joined him with a smile. As soon as I had slid into the seat and the warm heat from the bus's system - as well as Warren's temperature beside me - struck me, I felt an overwhelming exhaustion. Last night had been a late night with all of my Mad Science homework; Warren had been tutoring me in between breaks at work, but Medulla handed out a lot of work and I needed to keep up with all of the assignments. This resulted in several late nights in a row, and I was truly looking forward to a full weekend of sleep. However, I couldn't resist the sleepiness that began to shut my eyes as the bus began it's calm descent towards the mainland – the bus rides down were always extremely more docile than the ones up – and felt my eyes droop shut as I gave in to the exhaustion. I knew that I would get at least fifteen minutes of shut eye; the route that the bus took caused it a slight delay in winding through the rich residential areas before it reached the slightly more dingy ones. So, when Warren shook me awake fifteen minutes later – I hadn't even realized that I had passed out on his shoulder - I felt slightly more invigorated. I blushed again as I took note of the fact that he had let me nap on him for a solid fifteen minutes and tried to hide it as we exited the flying vehicle, now disguised again as a school bus, and began the walk to our restaurant.

"Sorry for passing out on you," I internally chastised myself for not being able to keep my eyes open.

"You've been tired then, hm?" Warren didn't seem to mind the fact that I had slept on him at all, and now that I could take a good look at him, it seemed that he had a little extra energy in his walk. "Staying up late?"

"Yeah..." I conceded, not wanting to admit my terrible schedule but not bothering to hide it, since just moments ago I had been napping comfortably. "I've been trying to catch up in Mad Science."

"Your marks are getting better," Warren nodded. He had continued to tutor me in between breaks of our shifts at the Paper Lantern, but my life was just getting so busy in between the school work and real work and therapy sessions that I barely had time to rest anymore. "But you've gotta sleep, Elle."

"I know," I smiled a bit at the sound of my nickname again, wondering why the hell it gave me butterflies each time he said it. "But with work, and the rest of my classes...I mean, I've dealt with worse in my time but I just feel like a need a vacation already."

"Junior year is where it gets hard," Warren agreed, grimacing. It seemed he understood the struggle as well since he was also in his Junior year with me, although he was much better at balancing his stresses than I was. "They start to push you on what you want to do after you graduate."

"Do they?" I rose a brow sarcastically, dreading the upcoming conversations with the school where I could only assume we would be urged towards a hero lifestyle. "Great."

We started our shift minutes later upon reaching the restaurant, where I also took the time to tell Annie – our manager – that I wouldn't be able to come in tomorrow because of an appointment. She bought it, and since Warren had agreed to cover my shift for that night I had faith that I was in the clear to go dress shopping. Obviously, these kinds of lies didn't happen very often, but I was in high school and needed some time exploring, so I figured that missing one shift to innocently go dress shopping wasn't going to hurt anybody. I thought about what kind of dress I wanted as I waited tables, slapping a smile on my face and mindlessly passing on orders to the chefs all the while humming to myself. I had thought about a long black gown at first, but then changed my mind to something short, and then long again. The color, on the other hand, was a totally different discussion. My favorite color was black, and although I knew that there was a possibility of finding something else I liked, Layla was most likely going to bother me about wearing something so dull on my first occasion. I sighed, smiling slightly at the fact that I could call some people around me friends instead of acquaintance now, and continued to wait on my tables with a much truer positive expression.

"Hey Elle," Warren nudged me as I passed by him on my way back to the kitchen hours later. He held four trays of food in his hands, presumably going to serve the hungry family sitting in one of the front booths. "Is that...is that hippie?"

"Uh," I narrowed my eyes as in the direction where he was looking, eyeing the small green clad figure sitting in a secluded booth far away. "Looks like it – what's she doing here again? She only comes here when she's sad."

So far Layla had shown up a couple more times at the Paper Lantern – we had talked to her and tried to cheer her up but it was obvious that she came here to get away and grieve based on the multiple dead flowers that she left in her wake. Although it was good business (Layla tended to eat when she was sad and drown her sorrows in good food) I couldn't help but feel for the poor girl who was clearly dealing with months of frustration and torture watching the love of her life stay with another girl. I was angry with Will for not realizing what a gem she was and how much she liked him, but at the same time annoyed that after all this time, Layla hadn't made a move or said anything to Will. She had been angry and bitter without letting him know her feelings, and when I thought about it the only reason that her and her friends had to be angry with him was that Will had abandoned them to hang out with his new 'hero' friends. All the other emotions besides that could have easily been solved, but Layla wasn't taking any action and Will was as oblivious as ever.

"I'll check on her in a couple minutes," I assured my friend, bumping his hip as I shifted past him to go collect my tray for table five. "Our shift's almost over anyway."

"You've got an eyelash on your cheek!" I heard Warren call out as I made my way into the kitchen, and was thankful that the wall shielded me from his gaze because there was a blush on my face that I was sure wouldn't go out soon. I swiped at my skin, trying to rid it of the runaway lash, and made a wish in it's stead just to be secure. Then, I collected my plates and tried to believe in myself that I could calm the color on my cheeks before bringing a couple their ordered food. This was my last table of the night since it was right before closing time, so I took the opportunity to remove my sweater and uncover my artwork. Annie had requested that I wear a sweater when the restaurant was crowded as to keep the aesthetic of the restaurant going, but agreed that after certain hours when business died down I could relax and wear short sleeves. I agreed with her standards although I didn't agree with her thought process. My tattoos were not a representation of how well I did my job; with or without them I was still a good waitress and they didn't effect anything but the visual quality of the restaurant. It frustrated my slightly since I was getting used to the idea of uncovering myself to the world slowly and becoming more confident bit by bit, but this seemed to be a step backwards in a sense. Either way, I agreed and was happy to have a job – at this point that I was at I didn't care if I was scrubbing toilets or serving the Queen her tea – I just needed to get money to eat and pay the bills.

It took the rest of the guests another half hour to finish their meals, and by that time it was about two hours until closing time. Annie was still in her office, but the cooks were preparing to pack up and only stopped when I asked them to whip up some fresh dumplings and noodles for Layla. I quickly located her in the facility, retying my loose bun as I went to sit down in front of her. To my surprise, her eyes were red, glossy and puffy as if she had stopped crying after hours and hours of it. She tried to smile and greet me as I sat down, but it didn't come out as much more than a broken greeting. It was clear that something had happened, but I didn't bother to ask her anything until Warren came around with her food. She smiled gratefully at us both as he sat down beside me.

"So," He started in his baritone voice. "What happened this time?"

"I-I went for a walk to clear my head," Layla muttered, beginning to lift her noodles onto her fork. "In my neighborhood – which connects with Will's neighborhood – and when I walked by his house there was music and lights..."

"He had a party?" I hadn't thought that Stronghold would have bought into what seemed to be the typical hero jock asshole role at Sky High. Gwen had truly done a number on him, from what it seemed.

"Apparently," Layla began to eat her meal with vigor, pausing in between bites to describe the rest of the tale to us. "He only invited heroes – and obviously I was angry with him so I wanted to talk, but when I went inside Gwen told me the truth."

"What'd she say?" Warren leaned back, letting a long huff escape his nose and wrapping an arm around the back of my seat. It took everything I had not to grin like an idiot and pay attention to poor Layla, but Warren's warmth was getting to me and it was hard not to react to him showing affection.

"She said I was just embarrassing him and that he's avoiding us," Layla's eyes welled up with tears once more. "She said he didn't invite his old friends for a reason and he knows I like him. She told me he's just too nice to say that he's not interested a-and that..."

Layla trailed off, and it took some more encouraging from Warren and I to get it out of her that Gwen had told her to leave very rudely. Layla wasn't a rude person by any means, but when Will had encountered her trying to leave his party he had tried to talk to her, and she had told him to 'have fun with Gwen because they deserved each other'. She had then collapsed into tears and hid in a tree until she had gathered the nerve to come to the Paper Lantern, where currently she was gulping down the rest of her meal whilst trying to hold back sobs. I glanced at Warren nervously, noticing that he had the same amount of helplessness on his face that I had, and chose to speak first.

"Layla," I began, trying to place a sense of reality in the girl. "You said he tried to talk to you, right?"

The girl nodded, picking up another one of her dumplings with her chopsticks and reiterating that he seemed confused as to why she was angry with him.

"Maybe Gwen lied," Warren suggested. "The bitch does that."

Layla choked a little at his usage of words, but didn't say anything more and simply continued to eat. I didn't know whether or not the wheels were turning in her head, but I continued to remind her that after all this time as best friends, there was no way that Will would just dump her friendship behind for a girl. Will might have been oblivious and stupid at times, but he didn't come off as a total asshole to me. Even in his fight with Warren he had seemed to be meek and apologetic – although he hadn't done anything wrong and was only trying to get by on his first day of school. Will struck me as someone who new right from wrong, just like Warren – it was just that a freshman wanted to explore, and Will didn't have the clarity that my friend had. It was difficult to tell when a girl like Layla was in love with you when she had hidden it from the second grade onward – especially since she hadn't said anything or made a move when Will had begun to date Gwen. I reminded her again and again that she should try and get into contact with Will, and Warren repeated that Gwen was known to be a filthy liar whom Layla shouldn't have trusted. Gwen's words were never something to go by, Warren stated, unless she was giving instructions in Mad Science. I stored that information in my brain for future reference, counting on the possibility that I could be effected by those lies at some point as well.

"I don't know guys," Layla shook her head fifteen minutes later after we had continued to try and convince her against Will's wrongdoings. "He could have said something earlier but he didn't – he was obviously choosing her over us."

"Do you really trust what she has to say?" I narrowed my eyes, not wanting their friendship or possible relationship just to be ruined by miscommunication. "I would talk to him yourself, just to be sure."

Layla was quiet once more, finishing her water before staring between the two of us. "I'll think about it, but I don't care about the dance anymore – he hurt me and ignored his friends for weeks. That can't be fixed by a dance."

Both Warren and I breathed a heavy sigh; that was clearly all that we were going to get out of her tonight. Obviously saving her homecoming situation was off the table now – the dance was in three days and there was very little chance of Will interacting with Layla since they didn't have any classes together. She still, however, expressed her desire to go to the dance and before leaving instructed me to meet her outside the mall downtown with Magenta tomorrow. I smiled and agreed, not wanting to let her down since she had endured so much emotional trauma and it was clear that she needed some girl time. I hadn't really ever understood what 'girl time' was, but I was willing to try, especially since the concept involved friends and I needed to focus on strengthening my relationships. Warren reminded me of this as we began to clear tables, preparing for our last customers to leave. It was then that I spotted a distinct blue shirt seated in a booth, and notified Warren of his presence.

"That's Will," I murmured softly, trying not to attract attention. "Should we do anything? He knows both of our faces and Eric already left for the night."

Warren clenched his jaw, cursing our absent fellow employee and then choosing to go sit at Will's table with a full tray of glasses. I couldn't hear everything they were saying, but I overheard Will confirming that he wasn't attending the dance (obviously something had happened with Gwen considering his put out expression) and that he was looking for Layla. It was at this point that Warren shook his head, letting Will know how much of an idiot he had been and telling him that Layla was completely into him. Will shook his head in denial, and I could hear him uttering that she 'wasn't after tonight' as I approached the table. I felt the desire to say something – Will had hurt people who were supposed to mean something to him, and this resonated very deeply with me – so just as Will finished his sentence and mentioned how he wouldn't have been surprised if his friends never talked to him again, I butted in.

"You must have been a real jerk then," I picked up the tray of glasses that Warren had set down on the table, and rose a brow as both boys looked at me. Warren shot me a slight smile, warm brown eyes meeting mine and causing me to blush again. I nearly cursed; I was doing entirely too much of that.

"Yeah," Warren agreed, looking back at Will who's eyes trailed over my tattoos. "Cause no matter what we do, we can't get 'em to stop talking to us."

Warren left the table with a last face at Will, making sure to emphasize the fact that he dissaproved of his behavior and that he had a lot of patching up to do. Will said nothing else and ordered nothing before leaving, only staring back at the two of us as we cleaned the tables sullenly – we had both dealt with about as much drama as we wanted to for the night. I was beginning to realize that freshmen seemed to be able to create that quite a lot – Magenta and Layla were gossiping often at the table and it took everything I had to tune them out. I didn't want to be a part of the information superhighway, and I would never want to be.

Unfortunately, I was forced to deal with their gossip the next day when I met up with Layla at the mall after school. It was tedious to listen to them drone on about other freshmen in their class and what they wore, or who they were seeing – despite the fact that they were Hero Support, it was obvious that they had their own cliques and separations. It took forever to find a different topic to talk about; I was too shy to butt into their conversation and when Magenta asked for my opinion and I tried to change the subject with a question she would ignore it. I was near the point of exasperation until Layla spotted a dress shop and dragged us into it. There wasn't much to say about it besides the fact that dresses were designed for clubbing only and didn't suit a high school dance whatsoever. So, fruitfully, we moved to the next shop down the row of stores. This one was a little more suited to my standards; many of the dresses were alternative but there were several that caught my eye. Poor Layla couldn't find anything that she liked, but Magenta and I both found multiple dresses to try on.

The first dress came up a bit too short for my liking, as well as the second and the third – they seemed to be too loose for me and I was beginning to give up, but upon slipping on the fourth dress I knew I'd found the one I wanted. It was black, sleeveless and came up slightly above mid thigh, tight around the bust and loose underneath the criss cross of the fabric. Despite my tattoos being on full display, I bought it right away without even bothering to look around the rest of the store. The dress complimented my figure and I loved the way I looked in it; even after homecoming I knew I would continue to be happy with my purchase. Layla and Magenta agreed with me, although Layla was looking slightly disheartened at the fact that Magenta had also found an alternative purple dress that she had liked with a black lace pattern all over it. We assured her that she would find something in the next store, and find she did. Everything was colorful and bright; even the music was positive and upbeat. The only thing that I enjoyed throughout the entire store was the shoe department, where I looked around for my size 8 and picked out a nice pair of black five inch heels with a stud design on the back. For the cheap prices at this mall I could safely say that the items were of fairly good quality and that these were awesome finds.

Layla exited from the change room five minutes later with a red number on, spinning for us and asking us what we thought. The dress was like the length of mine, coming up mid thigh with gold accents along the bust. It was cute, but it just didn't seem like Layla. We were honest, telling her that although red was a strong color, it clashed with her hair. She moved on to the next dress, which was a light blue and tight to her skin. This one was a bit longer and had a stooped neckline as well as an open back.

"It's a beautiful color," I smiled. "But are you comfortable in it?"

"Sort of," Layla squirmed. "It's a little hard to walk, but I like the color."

"It's nice," Magenta offered, nodding as well. "But I told you – green goes well with your hair! Try the long one on."

Layla's final dress was perfect for her; it was long and green and complimented her figure to great extents. There was a gold ribbon running around the waist line, twisting and turning to loop into the back of her neck so it was visible that it supported the dress. It went perfectly with the red color of her hair, and she looked very happy with herself when she looked in the mirror. It was settled after she found a pair of gold heels to go with it – Magenta had assured us both that she wanted to wear her combat boots with her outfit much to Layla's dismay – and we made our way out of the mall with successful purchases in tow. Layla's mother was kind enough to drop us all off at home, and I thanked her multiple times for it as well as Layla for bringing me out in the first place. She shot me one final smile before taking off with her mother, assuring me that we would see each other tomorrow.

I made my way into my apartment with a final sigh and eyeing the still open doors of the Paper Lantern. The shopping trip hadn't taken that long, and I was debating going back and telling Annie that I could work the rest of the shift for the night, but something held me back. There was a tiny bit of guilt in my stomach for lying to Annie about my 'appointment', but I shoved it down and convinced myself that spending time with friends was a good thing as long as I didn't jeopardize any of my work. I quickly unlocked my apartment and hung my dress up in the closet, glad that I had reminded myself to buy coat hangers as well as cooking supplies. I cooked chicken as I did my homework on the small counter top, whizzing through all of the homework besides Mad Science and hoping that Warren would be able to help me with the problems I was having trouble on at lunch. Most of the concepts that Medulla had tried to explain to me so far were fairly clear in my mind now, but I was still having trouble with some of the specific ones. Warren had worked wonders; I had to give him that.

Upon finishing my chicken, and preparing my books for tomorrow, I decided to turn on the radio and get some liquor in my system. I didn't want to have another crying session in the shower today and I certainly didn't feel like calling my mother OR getting flashbacks whilst I tried to sleep – despite the wonderful day I had had – so I grabbed a small bottle of whiskey and coca cola and ventured into the bedroom. I had to admit; it was nice to know the fact that a bed frame was on it's way to my house since I hadn't had a bed frame in nearly eight years. I also hadn't had a dress in eight years, so it was mighty fine that things were changing.

I took several shots in the span of ten minutes, turning on the radio and listening to Men At Work's, ' _Land Down Under'_. I hadn't heard the song since my real father had lived with me, so it struck a couple cords and I sat up to listen to all of the words properly. I remembered my father turning this song up whenever he heard it on the radio, or when he was cooking breakfast in the morning, or when he was shaving in his bathroom. He hadn't been the friendliest man in the world and didn't always show a lot of positivity, but he loved this song and always found the time to enjoy it. I didn't know how I felt about it; on one hand I wanted to crack the radio open and on the other hand I wanted to sing along with the little words that I did know in memory of my father. I hadn't heard of him nor seen him since he had left with his other woman, so to hear something that reminded me of him so much was rare and brought tears to my eyes.

But, like all good things, the song eventually came to an end and was replaced with Motley Crue's ' _Saints Of Los Angeles'_. I didn't mind this at all and left the knob, going instead to turn up the volume and taking a large chug of my alcohol. The point of me drinking was to get drunk fast and fall asleep, so I wasn't surprised when the effects of the alcohol came into play and I felt a wave of fatigue sweep over me. Despite this, I continued to drink to expel any further memories of my family that tried to pop into my brain to the point where I was so drunk I didn't even realize there was a knocking at the door until the radio changed songs. I shut it off with a smack, stumbling towards my door and eyeing out the peephole. It was Warren, and I was utterly smashed, meaning that the situation following couldn't have possibly been good.

"H-hello!" I swung the door open, just as the first hiccup of the evening made it's way up my throat.

"Eleanor?" Warren looked at me quizzically, as if surprised to see me stumbling slightly and slurring my speech. "I have your amp..."

"Yes..." I pointed at it. "I see that – come in."

"Are you drunk?" He questioned immediately. Warren wasn't an idiot, and it was rather obvious in every form that I was inebriated, so I wasn't surprised when he figured it out.

"Yes," I led him to the bedroom stumbling slightly, hiccuping as I went but managing to keep my steps fairly straight. "I am c-completely shit faced."

"Well," Warren grunted, setting the amp in my room and plugging it in. "Before you vomit I should probably let you know that there's an IKEA truck here."

"Fuck," I muttered, flopping on my bed face first. "That's n-not good."

Warren was quiet for awhile, regarding my form on the mattress before sighing and going to organize my CD's. I could hear the distinct clacking noises and make out some shuffling as well. It took ten minutes for me to move my drunken ass and turn around so I could face him, and when I did all of my books were organized as well as my CD's. Warren was now flipping through a copy of _Great Expectations_ by Charles Dickens, and it took me awhile to comprehend the organization skills before I could say anything.

"Wow," I drawled, leaning slightly to one sight and not being able to maintain my balance even whilst seated. "You should b-be a librarian, Warren."

All I got in turn was a snort from him before there was the distinct knocking on my door. I groaned, flopping back into bed lazily and complaining about how 'everyone was knocking on my door tonight'. Warren merely lifting himself off of his position on the floor and made his way into the main room, opening the door for me and speaking to whomever was on the other side. From what it sounded like they were moving furniture in – Warren was instructing them where to place everything and I trusted him enough to make good choices so that he wouldn't have to move it again later. I really didn't want to step outside of the bedroom but knew that I would have to eventually to sign more papers from the delivery men themselves. In fact, around ten minutes later after Warren had placed the bookshelf in the bedroom by himself, he gently shook me and coaxed me to rise so that I could sign forms.

"Hello," I smiled sloppily as Warren guided me out of the bedroom to find three delivery men standing near my door. "What can I d-do for ya?"

"You just need to sign these miss," One of the larger workers held out a clipboard for me as well as a pen. "The bottom line."

"Here?" I started to sign my name on the first line I saw. The pages were blurry and so was his stubby little finger, so I could barely tell what the heck he was pointing at.

"No," He stopped me, marking a little line with an 'x'. "Here."

I began to sign my name there, only to be stopped again and be told that I was signing underneath the line instead of above it. I sighed, feeling the irrepressible urge to lie down and groan thanks to the growing pain in my stomach, but shoved it down.

"Ma'am," The IKEA representative grew frustrated and pointed to the line where I was supposed to sign once more. " _This_ line, right here."

"Oops," I slurred, writing a messy signature and a little smiley face next to it. "S-sorry."

"Thank you," All I got was a curt nod, a receipt, and then the three men were out the door as fast as possible. As soon as Warren had locked the door behind them and I had thrown the receipt on the counter I made a beeline for the washroom, recognizing the feeling in my stomach as nausea. There was bile preparing to expel itself, and I wasn't going to take any chances laying down anywhere if my stomach was getting ready to projectile vomit. It took only a minute or two of Warren standing behind me and my cheek leaned against the cool porcelain to begin the torture. Vomit made its way up my esophagus, burning the entire way and embedding itself in my nose. I felt shame, disgust and the desire to be swallowed up by a hole in the ground all at once; it was a mistake drinking tonight – it was a mistake drinking in general and to be seen in this state was even more embarrassing. I had no control over myself and the only way I was capable of dealing with my emotions was drinking. I felt even more pathetic than when I had told the therapist about this; she and I had talked for awhile about strategies, but I hadn't felt much better by the end of the visit and now my best friend was finding out just how pathetic I could get.

"I'm r-really sorry," I slurred, face planting again into the toilet bowl as Warren leaned against the sink. "I h-have a slight d-drinking p-problem."

"It's not necessarily your fault..." Warren grimaced as I retched again, vomit spewing out of my mouth. I felt him gently tug my hair back as I continued to gag, feeling my throat give in. "Although the IKEA guys didn't look too happy."

I groaned as more vomit expelled itself into the toilet, angry with myself for not remembering which day it was that the delivery guys were supposed to come over. If I had just been a little bit more cautious, none of this would have happened and I could have easily ushered Warren out and enjoyed getting drunk a little later with some nicely placed furniture. But now, because of my stupidity, I had pissed off the delivery men who left in a huff without organizing my things, and now Warren knew about another problem of mine.

"How long have you been drinking like this?" He sighed, sympathy coating his tone.

"It's a h-habit," I hiccuped, gagging again. "S'been goin' on for a c-couple years."

"' _Years'_?!" Warren quoted incredulously, chest rumbling. I could hear it and feel the warmth behind me as he continued to hold my long black hair back from my face. It felt like hours that Warren helped me – flushing the toilet and grabbing tissues for my face in between vomiting spells as well as wetting a towel to place on my forehead and calm the flush.

"Is therapy helping?" He asked as he returned from the kitchen with a cup of water.

"A bit," I muttered, realizing that the nausea was ebbing away. "Thank you."

Warren said nothing, simply sat on the rim of the bathtub right by me in case I was sick again. I had invested in shower curtains and a comfy bathroom rug and towel set as soon as I had been able to as well, so the only good thing about this very moment was the fact that my butt wasn't on a miserable cold floor. My head, however, was in a miserable state and beginning to feel very heavy. I was tired, and Warren saw my head slumping against the ceramic 'throne' once more.

"Hey," He grabbed me just before my head bumped into the toilet. "Elle – don't fall asleep here - do you wanna move to the bed? I can set it up for you."

"Yes," I muttered, considerably more sober than I had been twenty minutes ago. He moved me over to the new couch I had purchased for the time being whilst he assembled my new bed frame and mattresses together. It took him five minutes with his incredible muscles, and by the time he was done I had already stumbled to the bathroom and back three times to pee. I was sobering up fast, but my body was exhausted and needed to rest. As soon as he guided me into the bed with the comfy new sheets and pillows, I face planted onto it and thanked him for getting me a glass of water and the bucket from underneath the bathroom sink. I had to hand it to him; Warren knew how to take care of people despite his outer appearance. Despite this, he apparently didn't have the mind to stay, because as soon as he turned out the light he picked up his discarded backpack and began to exit the room.

"Where're you goin'?" I slurred into my pillow, frowning at his retreating figure.

"Home?" He seemed confused, stopping to turn around and look at my form underneath the new sheets.

"Stay," I suggested, hoping that he would take it platonically – I needed support at the moment and he was able to offer it. "Please? I don't want to spend another night alone."

He sighed at this, seemingly regretful at his prior decision to leave me, and moved to take off his shoes. He placed his bag down,used the bathroom and called his mother quickly, but didn't re enter my bedroom. It took me awhile to realize that he had occupied the couch, and I sighed as I called out his name. He didn't respond at first, so I slid out of the bed and retrieved him. I had no intentions besides wanting someone's presence to keep me warm and safe throughout the night – so to have him sleep on the couch would defeat the purpose of him being here at all. In fact, I didn't even tell him that the couch I bought had been a pull out and instead urged him that sleeping in a bed with me was perfectly fine.

"You can sleep in the bed you know," I held onto the wall for support, not fully seeing his figure in the dark.

"It wouldn't be..." Warren tried to find the words. "I don't...are you sure?"

"Yes," I laughed, walking back into my room and changing my pants as quickly as possible into pajama bottoms. Warren entered just as I slipped back under the covers, making sure to lie on his side only and not breach any trust barriers that had been set. He was a very respectful person, even though he had fooled everyone at school to think otherwise.

"I hope you don't steal covers," I slurred again, reveling in his chuckle. "'Cause I do."

"I don't," He assured. "Get some sleep, Elle."

There was a split moment of silence before I spoke again.

"Hey Warren?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a g-good person," I continued, trying my best not to slur my speech anymore despite my hiccups resurfacing. "I don't know why p-people judge you so harshly."

There was another couple beats of silence, but he didn't say anything. I could almost feel the tension in the air, but continued to speak no matter what – I truly felt he needed to hear it.

"And I don't think it m-matters who your father was," I continued. Perhaps it was the liquid courage still flowing through my veins, or perhaps it was because of the emotions that I had been building up over the past several weeks, but I was speaking my mind on a bold subject for the first time in years. "You are a different man. A different, kind, patient, l-loving, wholesome person who helps and is honest by n-nature. You know right from wrong and you know this. Please don't forget it."


	9. Homecoming, Part 1

**Homecoming, Part 1**

 **Sorry the updates haven't been very fast guys – I've been really busy but I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

There were two things I felt the next morning when I woke up; the urge to vomit and an insane heat. It seemed to overwhelm my body as I slowly came to, starting hottest at my back and then gradually becoming cooler at my front. Still, the heat was spread throughout my entire body and I acknowledged that I was sweating profusely. I groaned in pain at the pounding in my head and tried to move to get to the bathroom, but soon realized that Warren's back was pressed against mine which indicated where the heat source was. Although he was facing away from me, it was clear that his whole body generated heat, and since he was asleep he most likely had less of a control over it than when he was awake.

"Of course," I groaned, practically falling out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom, the sweat dripping down my face. "Fucking hotbox."

I heard him stir at the noise that I was making, but I ignored it in favor of aiming for the toilet bowl as I face planted into it and vomited. It wasn't until I had retched several times that I heard the gentle padding of his footsteps make their way into my tiny bathroom. He didn't say anything at first, simply held my hair back and waited until my stomach had ceased it's attack to speak. It took a good five minutes; I had drunk a good 3/4 of a bottle last night and although I had vomited then, my body was still metabolizing the alcohol and it didn't like it one bit. I was fairly used to it at this point, but Warren on the other hand was not, and it was clear that he was fairly shocked.

"Think you're okay?" He asked, voice groggy from sleep.

"No," I spat into the ceramic bowl and flushed it, deciding to be completely honest. I knew my own body after years of drinking, and although I had built up a fair tolerance, there was no way I wouldn't be sick after almost finishing a bottle.

My friend didn't say anything, merely filling up the same glass of water that had stayed on the counter overnight with fresh H2O. I took it, thanking him weakly and spitting more stomach bile into the toilet. The shame that I had felt being drunk in front of him yesterday night had gone, and instead been replaced by guilt; I felt like I had failed some kind of test. I was supposed to be doing better after my horrid past and introducing positivity to my life, but I had been practicing self destruction instead of love. Granted, people like Warren and the group of freshmen helped, but this uncontrollable alcohol problem was getting the best of me. I had refused to admit that it was such a serious problem until now and it was time to stop treating my body so poorly. In fact, I found it quite ironic that I was doing so much damage to myself and healing others at the same time. The thought almost caused me to snort, but I held it in as another wave of nausea passed over me.

"Oh for the love of..." My sentence cut off as I was interrupted by a rather violent retch, and I regurgitated more stomach acid. My esophagus felt like it was on fire and my nose was no better; everything was clogged up, slimy and disgusting. "...christ."

Again, Warren said nothing, instead choosing to stroke my back with a warm hand. He always seemed to run at higher temperature than everyone else, but I believed that I was one of the few people that noticed. No one really got close enough to Warren to discover that, and the fact that he had let me in close enough to learn more about him made the ball of happiness in my stomach grow larger. In that ball there was also affection for the boy who had taken time out of his life to help someone in need, and I could feel that growing each day as well. I felt safe and taken care of when I was around the pyrokinetic; despite him being so standoffish all the time at school and making sure that no one approached him, he had no qualms about our closeness. In fact, I was almost certain that even though I probably looked like his little sidekick at some points, Warren would have preferred me close to him and have people gossiping behind our backs than have me far away with our friendship a secret.

"How about now?" His question broke me out of my thoughts, and I sighed in relief as I realized that the awful feeling in my stomach was receding.

"Better," I admitted, shaking as I lifted myself from the floor. I flushed the toilet one last time and went to check the cheap clock I had nailed to my wall, seeing that it was seven in the morning and we had about half an hour to get ready before the bus showed up.

"School," I muttered, grabbing a Tylenol out of the cupboard and popping it as I tried to find my pants. Warren was already on the move, organizing my bed and grabbing his own things before putting the alcohol I had left by the bedside on my counter. I merely shot him a small smile in gratitude before shutting myself in the bathroom and changing into a large grey sweater before brushing my teeth to rid them of the horrible smell. I quickly slapped on deodorant and eyeliner as well, figuring that today of all days I should try and make myself look less like a zombie. The hangover would definitely continue into late afternoon – I could still feel the nausea like a bowling ball in my stomach – but at least I wouldn't look like a walking corpse for the rest of the day.

"Ready?" Warren rumbled from the other side of the door, knocking softly.

I did the best I could with my hair in ten seconds, brushing the long black locks before opening the door and letting Warren in to do his business. In the meantime I grabbed by bag and checked the time again, cursing as I realized we only had fifteen minutes to walk to the bus stop. Thankfully we were fast, pulling on our respective combat boots and bags before rushing out of the complex and setting a quick pace towards the bus stop. I had to admit; getting drunk on school nights wasn't something that I did regularly, and now that it had affected Warren I felt even guiltier. I wanted to say something, but wasn't sure how to bring it up. I didn't want my problems distracting him from his own life again – he had already helped so much and this was a battle I felt I could win on my own. I wanted to apologize, but to apologize would mean to bring up the conversation subject that would likely lead to him wanting to help. I was caught between a rock and a hard place. It wasn't until we had made it to the bus stop – fairly quickly despite the three blocks' distance – and sat at the very back did I speak.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, rubbing my face and internally pleading for my headache to disappear as soon as possible. "I didn't mean to get you into this mess."

Warren didn't say anything, simply meeting my eyes and giving me a look I couldn't decipher. I wasn't sure to take that as anger or pity, but either way I kept my mouth shut and waited for him to speak. As far as I could understand with Warren, it was simply a matter of waiting until he came around to speak. Everyone took him as some kind of villainous force that was bound to snap necks if someone talked to him, but no one even bothered to listen to what he had to say. The boy's intellect was extensive and the conversations - whilst sometimes short and abrupt - held depth and provided value for the listener. I had been lucky enough to be that listener for awhile now, and truly felt that if anyone even gave him a second chance instead of believing in the gossip that floated around their social circles, they would have discovered an incredible individual with a strong heart, capable of tremendous patience after years of torture as well as honesty and compassion. There was of course, the problem that after all of this shunning from the other students, Warren no longer wanted to be a part of anyone's circle and didn't let anyone in behind the brick wall he had built. I felt that it was everyone else's loss; I had made an excellent companion and intended on enjoying him all to myself.

"Do you remember what you told me?" He grimaced slightly as the bus began it's takeoff. I felt my heart rate pick up; it wasn't like me to say hurtful things whilst drunk, and since I had been close to blackout drunk yesterday I sincerely hoped that I hadn't said anything rude towards him.

"No," I admitted, covering my face in shame and groaned as the bus catapulted through the air. The nausea creeped back as the joyful yells of the other students – now used to the invigorating rides in the morning – filled the bus.

"Nevermind then!" Warren was forced to raise his voice as the bus's engines drowned him out and we barrel rolled through the sky. I was definitely going to puke once we got out of this hybrid metal contraption. The way the 'certified' bus drivers drove these mutant vehicles was preposterous, and I couldn't believe that Principle Powers still let us ride in these conditions. It was a wonder that everyone made it to school each morning; between the teleporters and the jet packs and the flying school buses I was shocked that no one crashed into each other in the sky

"If it was anything hurtful," I shouted as well, pushing down the vomit that was making it's way up my throat. "I'm really sorry!"

"It wasn't!" Warren yelled, shaking his head. I abandoned the subject, partially because the sickness in my stomach was overwhelming at this point and I wasn't going to get anything else out of him in this exact moment.

The bus finally leveled out, leaving me blanching and gasping for air as I gagged. I managed to keep the vomit down for five more minutes until the bus finally landed smoothly at Sky High, where I promptly vomited on the freshly cut grass a minute later. Warren assisted me to my first period and encouraged me that I would be fine despite my decreasing confidence that I could hold off more vomit. He ended up being wrong, and the rest of the day consisted of frequent trips to the girl's room as well as Nurse Spex's office to ask for more Tylenol. She chastised me for drinking, telling me that 'she could see the horrible things my liver was going through' and explained to me that she still hadn't figured out why my body wouldn't heal itself. I groaned at the terrible timing of it all; if anything, this would have been the prime moment to learn how to reverse the effects of my healing powers onto myself. I was sick of this hangover and wanted to feel normal again. The only positive thing that had come out of the day so far was the fact that I had picked up a pamphlet in the front office about Universities in the state, and discovered that I was eligible for a grant entitling me to a scholarship to a university because I was the first of my family to attend and needed financial support. This improved my mood a fair bit, but it decreased against when I vomited before lunch. There was also the small fact that I was still curious as to what drunken gibberish I had attacked Warren with last night, and why exactly he hadn't told me this morning. Had it really been that bad? These thoughts plagued me as I made my way to the bus at the end of the day, urging my stomach to stay strong and hoping that the small lunch I had managed to shove down my throat stayed down until I arrived safely at work.

"Elle," Warren greeted as he plopped down beside me on the idling bus. "Feeling any better?"

"Slightly," I muttered, face in my hands as I blocked out the light. "At least I don't feel like a soggy piece of bread anymore."

I got a small chuckle out of Warren at that, but ignored it in favor of questioning him about this morning's words. "So what did I say last night?"

Warren smile faded, and my heart leaped. He had told me that I hadn't said anything hurtful, but based on his demeanor it seemed like I had and this thought caused panic to wrack my brain. I didn't want to lose him as a friend; he was the only support I had that felt what I had been through and knew what to say to help me. He was a light in my life and I didn't want to allow anything to come in between that. I hadn't had any reason to stop drinking before – I didn't have anyone and anything and the alcohol made me forget my crappy life. But now that I was doing much better and had other things to look forward to and a friend to cling to, I didn't need to forget. In fact, the alcohol was now creating more problems instead of making me forget about them. I didn't want to lose the only thing I had because of alcohol, and it was then that I realized why people had halted their addiction with the liquid drug.

"You said I wasn't my father," Warren began, eyes flashing at the mention of Baron. "You said it didn't matter and that people shouldn't judge me because of that. You said I was a different man and that I was kind and patient. You said I was honest and wholesome and told me I knew right from wrong."

"I-I said all that?" I nearly whispered, eyes widening as I heard my own words in someone else's mouth. I hadn't expected my drunken mind to come up with such wonderful things to say to him, but he didn't seem all that thrilled that I had said them.

"You also said I was loving," Warren huffed, looking torn. I ignored that part, instead focusing on his expression. I was too focused on my drunken words to question my feelings for him at the moment; they were all scrambled anyway and I didn't want to push him away.

"So it wasn't anything bad?" I reiterated, frowning as I watched him shake his head side to side in confirmation and trying to understand why he was visibly shaken by my words. "Why the long face?"

It took him awhile to formulate a response, and he waited until the bus had taken off and began it's descent before he spoke.

"Because no one says those things to me except my mother," He bit on his thumbnail, a slight frown pulling on his facial features. "No one makes an effort to look past my father in me."

"Was I mistaken, then?" I pulled back, afraid that I had overstepped some boundary and that he was going to push away from here. "I'm sorry if I upset you – that definitely wasn't my intention. As drunk as I was, I'm not malicious or vindictive by nature, I promise."

"I know," He shook his head again. "And you didn't. You weren't mistaken; I was just surprised."

There were several more beats of silence as we avoided eye contact, and I noticed that the heat that rolled off of him was a lot stronger than usual. I didn't comment, however, and instead focused on the passing clouds as the bus continued it's descent into the mainland. Again, I wanted to let him speak first and have his piece before I apologized and continued to carry on the conversation. Warren always had something important to say, so when he spoke it wasn't to be taken lightly at all. Each one of his words had a purpose and it was clear that he thought deep and hard before he spoke. The first several stops passed by before Warren said anything again.

"You mean a lot to me Elle," He admitted, voice rumbling as he stared into nothing. The words resonated in me, and I found that the ball of affection in my stomach was growing with each of his confessions. "I haven't let anyone in in a long time – no one wants me. But it wasn't hard to get close to you, and you helped me just as much as I helped you."

"No one wanted me either," I mumbled, slumping as I thought about my old, horrid life. "You've done more for me than my own mother has and you're the only one who knows what I feel like. I hold a lot of feelings for you, and some of those came out yesterday. I hope they didn't come out wrong, and I'm sorry if they did."

The bus came to a stop with a screech, and we both realized that it was our turn to exit. We shared a short meaningful glance before hopping off the vehicle, and began the walk to the Paper Lantern. I didn't know what else to say to him; it was clear we both felt affectionate and caring towards each other but I wasn't sure I had sold him on the fact that I had truly meant those words. The fact that I had been drunk was one thing; it was bad enough that he had seen me in that condition and heard me say those things, but I had also said meaningful words and it was hard to take someone seriously when they were inebriated. I wanted to assure him and tell him how wonderful of a person he was – how much patience was required to live his life and how good of a job he was doing at following his own path instead of the one his father had tried to set for him. But I didn't know how to start that topic, so I took the time to think about it during my work shift. It was difficult to concentrate with Warren's eyes constantly on me and the customers continuously asking for refills, but I managed to think of what I would say to him when our shifts were over. I waited until he politely held the back door open for me when we had changed out of our uniforms, and then spoke whilst he was walking to his car and I around the building where the door to the apartments lay.

"Even if I was drunk," I started, wincing as I realized how bad that sounded as it slipped off my tongue. "I really meant it – I don't say things like that out of the blue."

He didn't say anything, so I took the chance and pressed on.

"I know you might not think that," I sighed, looking up at his six-foot-something figure in the dark and praying that he believed me. "But I really did mean it, and all of the feelings I have for you are good. You're a strong person who's held years of rejection and abuse inside of you and you don't deserve any of the shit you get."

We stopped in front of his car, but he didn't make a move to unlock it. He seemed to be caught in between thoughts as he leaned against the black vehicle and clenched his jaw. I let him think for a couple more moments, not wanting to interrupt any important thought process.

"I guess I didn't think you would say that," He admitted. "I feel horrible for saying this but I really thought you'd think worse of me."

"I like being around you," I couldn't stop the words from slipping out of my mouth. "I prefer to be close to you and you make me feel safe. You're not who anyone says you are – I wish more people could see that."

I met his eyes again and we simply stared for a moment before I smiled and watched his own expression do the same. I didn't really know what this moment was; we had reached some kind of conclusion for an event that I didn't know how to describe. I recognized the warm ball of light in my stomach, except this time it was growing and spreading all over my body – it overwhelmed me with feelings of ecstasy and affection, starting in my fingers and finding it's way to my toes. Then it made it's way back up to the top, tingling all the way to my cheeks. It was then that I realized I was blushing viciously, and became thankful for the darkness that shadowed the color on my face. The next occurrence, however, was nothing that I could have expected.

I could only muster an 'mmph!' of surprise as Warren's lips descended upon mine, and my arms flailed for a split second before they grasped onto his upper arms. His hand, gentle and and warm despite the chilly October air, grasped at the back of my head whilst the other placed itself at the small of my back. The warmth that had spread all over me was now pulsating to the rhythm of my heartbeat, which seemed to be growing faster by the second, and because of my distracted state it wasn't until he pulled away that I managed to draw a breath. His face was a split between panic and shock, mostly likely terrified of his brash action and of what my reaction would be.

"Shit," He didn't move as the word slipped out of his mouth. "I'm sorry – I'm sorry. I didn't think about that at all."

"No - it's okay," I breathed, still close to the pyrokinetic. "It's fine – that was..."

 _New._ My brain suggested, but I didn't say anything. I had slept with so many uninterested men before who just wanted a casual fuck; partygoers in trashy neighborhoods who merely got together a large concentration of drug addicts and alcoholics so that they could find a partner for the night and then boot them out when the neighbors complained. I had gotten used to the sway of things that somehow I had forgotten about the simple pleasures in life, like receiving a kiss. This small act, which I had considered so unnecessary and in the way before, had re-installed itself in my life and taught me again. So by my head's theory, this was in fact new. I was learning it again – I was learning to trust and care and live again. I needed time to grow close and feel affection, and with Warren I didn't feel any kind of uncertainty or rush.

"Wonderful," I finished, finding the right word. "That was wonderful – you're wonderful."

* * *

It was the night of Homecoming, and I was about to throw up in nervous fear.

Layla had convinced me to meet her at her house before the bus picked us up to fly to the school, which meant that I had to cut my shift short at the Paper Lantern to get ready for the whole event and bus ten neighborhoods over to her lavish house in an equally lavish neighborhood. It was uncomfortable enough getting on the bus all dressed up, but walking through the neighborhood in heels that I definitely wasn't accustomed to was all the more discomforting. All of this simply made my stomach twist further into a knot, despite the rush I got thinking about seeing Warren again. I hadn't spoken to him yesterday; he hadn't been at school or work since our moment in the parking lot and I was concerned not only for his safety but also for his emotions. I was worried that perhaps a boundary had been breached and that now he wanted to shut me out instead of let me in behind his strong brick wall. I was afraid of rejection again, but I didn't want to shy away from the answer. I shoved these thoughts down as I rung Layla's doorbell, and was greeted with a shriek of surprise when it was opened. It was Layla, in her bathrobe with half a head of hair done and her makeup done.

"You're READY?!" She yelped, ushering me inside and shutting the door.

"Well yeah," I muttered, raising a brow at her antics. "I wasn't just gonna bring all my stuff here."

"Well at least let me do your makeup!" Layla insisted, pulling me up the stairs where Magenta was already sitting on the bed applying eyeliner. "I can't believe it Mag, she got ready without us."

"She put on her dress Layla," Magenta droned, starting with her mascara. "I'd hardly say that's scream worthy."

"Well," Layla grumbled, disappearing into her walk in closet where she pulled on her own dress. "I wanted to do the whole thing together."

"We _are_ doing the whole thing together," Magenta assured, sitting me down in front of Layla's boudoir and beginning to apply eyeliner. I hadn't bothered with any makeup since I hadn't had a lot of time between cutting my shift short and changing into my dress before heading to Layla's, so my face was currently chemical free. I didn't protest against Magenta applying anything else; she blobbed on blush and gloss on my lips as well as curled my lashes before letting Layla apply eyeliner and mascara. I felt like I was in a whole new world; I didn't use anything except for eyeliner and the result on my face was wondrous – it was understandable why some girls took so long to do their makeup now. The results truly payed off, but it was too tedious for me to do day to day.

"Wow," I mumbled, looking closer at myself in the mirror. "Thanks guys – what about my hair?"

"No problem," Magenta shrugged, smirking as she and Layla finished their own faces and put on their shoes. "Your hair is bomb as fuck, so we didn't have to do anything with it."

"Are you sure?" I grimaced, eyeing the long locks of black that reached the middle of my back. My hair had seemed to plain and boring for so long, I wasn't sure that it matched the rest of my outfit.

"Your natural hair is stunning," Layla assured, placing a hand on my shoulder and causing me to regard my dark hair in a different light. "Warren's going to think you're beautiful."

"What?!" I flipped around to gape at her, and my eyes widened as she covered her mouth as if she had exposed a giant secret. There was no way that she could have seen the events of the night before yesterday, so why the hell would she say something like that? "W-why – why did you say that?"

"Layla wasn't supposed to say that!" Magenta gave her red haired friend a little smack upside the head before zipping up her combat boots. "And now she has to explain."

"I'm so sorry," Layla placed a hand on her chest, sympathy coating her features. "We weren't going to say anything but it slipped out! We've been watching you guys since we started sitting at your table."

"What?" My face must have been a mask of horror and humiliation, because they both began to assure me that it wasn't made a huge deal. It wasn't my feelings for Warren that was the cause of my humiliation here; it was the fact that they had obviously been on display for an entire two months despite my efforts to keep them under wraps. I didn't want me feelings and personal thoughts open for everyone to read like a book – I liked to think that I was a fairly discreet person, but I had clearly been wrong – and that upset me.

"It was just cute to watch," Magenta shook her head, helping Layla into her heels. "Watching you guys flirt and stuff – just harmless."

"Oh come on Eleanor," Layla pushed. "Everyone can see it – he's never opened up like that to anyone before. Warren doesn't do that."

"I know that," I placed a hand on my forehead. "I just didn't know everyone was watching."

"It was no one but me and Mag," Layla shook her head, clasping her hands together. "We didn't tell anyone anything."

"I guess that kind of makes you guys a pair of creeps," I sighed, trying to find humor in the situation upon realization that their spying was harmless and reveling in their relieved chuckles. A year ago, perhaps, I would have fled from this home and stayed in my room crying the whole night, but I was determined to change and convinced myself that bonding with others and building trust with more than one person was good for me.

After a short dispute over whether or not Magenta was truly going to wear her combat boots to a formal dance, it was agreed upon that she was allowed to express herself in whichever way she wanted to, and with a final huff we all exited the large home to wait at the bus stop conveniently located at the end of the street. I nearly exploded with jealousy upon sight of it – Layla already had looks, smarts and money to back herself up – but a conveniently located bus stop was just the icing on the cake. I managed not to blow my cool, however, and concentrated on not falling over in my ridiculous heels before we boarded the bus. It was strange to see so many eyes trained on me at once, before I realized they were staring at my skin – my tattoos. It took a small shove from Magenta to keep walking down the isles and ignore all of the looks, but I managed to choose a seat near the back of the bus and avoid eye contact for the rest of the ride despite my friend's attempts to start a conversation. The stares made me uncomfortable, and I was starting to doubt my dress choice. My tattoos were meant to be a message for me, and I wasn't used to sharing them with other people. Whilst I was working on being a confident individual, I had hidden the important messages inked on my skin all my life, and unveiling them was a big step for me. They were personal pieces to me, and although in all technicality it would be silly for me to care about mothers'opinions on them, I was concerned of what I looked like on the outside.

I willed myself to think of something else as to avoid being dragged away by my thoughts, and instead looked around the vehicle. The bus was decked out in blue and orange – the school's signature colors – which gave me something to look at as we barrel rolled through the sky and continued our ascent towards the flying school. I briefly wondered if Warren was going to come at all; Layla had obviously given up on Will and I wasn't sure if Warren had the incentive to go anymore, but with my red haired friend's comment back at her house I was hopeful that I was some reason for him to attend the event. I had never turned down a chance to spend more time with him, so I hoped that he thought the same for me.

We landed at Sky High was several rough bumps, causing some of the girls to check their hair before clacking down the stairs and thanking the bus driver for the ride. There were other buses arriving, with a steady stream of people already flowing into the school and I found my chest tightening as I gazed out the window to stare at some of the students. It was nerve wracking to know that the entire school – plus parents and whoever else was invited to this damn homecoming – were all going to be crowded in a room with blaring music and heavy lighting. Despite Save the Citizen and the school's cafeteria becoming ingrained in my lifestyle, I still wasn't used to crowds. Besides, no one brought an extra plus two wherever they went, and it was obvious that a lot of people's parents were here including all of the teachers. It was weird, and I was beginning to ponder the idea of taking a shuttle bus home.

"Eleanor?" Layla's voice snapped me out of my reverie, and I looked up to find my two friends waiting for me. We were the only ones left on the bus, and by the looks of it the bus driver wanted us off. I scampered to follow them, and took a large gulp as we joined the crowd of people. I was avoiding stares the minute I came into view, and could hear whispers behind my back. What they were saying about me, on the other hand, I couldn't decipher.

"Ethan!" Layla called out her friend's name as we breached the building door's and followed the crowd towards the gym. The boy, clad in an orange tuxedo – all of these kids seemed to hop straight out of a crayola box – turned to smile towards us and joined us in line.

"You all look great," He smiled awkwardly, not wanting to give too much of a compliment but wanting to be nice at the same time. It was a strange feeling, but I somehow understood his freshman struggle. "Have you seen Zack?"

"No," Magenta perked up at the mention of her interest (that much was clear to me) and peeked around the crowded corridor. "Where is he?"

"Went to the bathroom – thought you would have spotted him," Ethan laughed. "His tux is amazing!"

Zack appeared seconds later, speak of the devil, in a bright white and yellow tux. It was mesmerizing to look at – I wondered how the hell he had found such an article of clothing before reminding myself that retro clothing stores existed and that Zack most likely frequented them often. Magenta let a bright smile shine on her face, and I caught Layla looking around the halls for what I presumed was either Will or Warren. Either or, at this point, didn't really matter to her. After the havoc and stress that the party had caused her, I wasn't surprised that she didn't want that kind of drama in her life anymore. We all proceeded into the gym moments later after complimenting each other on our ability to clean up, and found the dance was already in full swing and people everywhere. My heart sped up as I gazed around the brightly lit room; there were white and blue balloons everywhere as well as star shaped lights and disco balls hanging on the ceiling. A lifted pedestal on a small stage adorned the front of the gym, bearing the school's logo and sporting a small microphone. I had seen – on the posters spread about the school in the past two weeks – and heard of an award that was meant to be given out tonight. It was meant to be something about the most successful alumni of the school, but I was certain that it was going to be turned into some kind of dramatic fiasco knowing supers.

"Eleanor," Zack began, striking up a conversation and distracting me from my curious gazing around the gym. "I was gonna say – your tattoos are pretty amazing."

"Thank you!" I let a shy smile take over my face – the compliments and moral boosters that I got from my friends were always nice, and I appreciated them very much.

"Elle?" A much deeper, familiar voice from behind me caused me to flip around, and I was greeted with the shocking sight of Warren wearing a full tuxedo – shoes included.

"Warren?" I quipped back, letting my mouth fall open slightly at the sight of him in a tuxedo. I hadn't imagined him in any sort of formal dress before, but the black and white formal wear complimented his form and although I was reluctant to admit how sexy it looked on him, I had to say something. "Christ – you clean up _good_ , Peace."

It was then that he shot me a drop-dead full out grin, showing off a set of straight white teeth and causing me to grin right back. Warren didn't show off his smile very often; I was lucky enough to see it because of our closeness, but it was nice to see it outside of private time. It showed development in his people skills and attitude; he was caring less and less about coming off as a closed off individual and had even grown slightly closer with a freshman group he would have probably steered clear away from at the beginning of the year. In two months, Warren was changing his thinking process and how he behaved, and I was proud to say the same for myself as well. It felt like we had accomplished a fair bit together in a short time span; it felt like we were growing and I wouldn't have wanted to do it with anyone but Warren now that I had gotten to know him.

"Same goes for you Elle," His eyes raked over each and every piece of ink on my skin, as well as my dress and heels. "Look at those shoes."

"I know!" I stuck out a foot, holding onto the table for support. "They're like death traps – you might have to carry me out of here by the end of the night."

"I wouldn't mind that," He admitted, causing me to blush and smile even further. I no longer felt uncomfortable – with Warren here my stomach was at peace and my mind was at ease despite the slight butterflies he gave me.

"Where were you yesterday?" I asked him, frown pulling at my lips. I had been worried – worried about his safety, first and foremost, but also worried about his feelings. I put aside the playful conversation to question him about it, watching his features for any differences at the mention of his father.

"I took the day off and went to see my dad," He explained, crossing his arms as he kept his expression the same. "In solitary – had to tell him I was renting his tux."

"Did he take it well?" I kept the conversation light, not wanting to question about what else they had spoken about. Warren shook his head, telling me that he would explain later and going to grab a drink of water. The kiss from two days ago wasn't brought up either, but I said nothing. We were in the middle of a large group of people and I was sure that he was going to want to talk about it more later when we were in private.

"I thought you weren't going to rent a tux!" Layla frowned as she spotted him from a couple feet away, a curious smile lining her lips.

"It's my dad's," Warren explained, still eyeing me and letting the smile linger on his face for a little longer. "He doesn't have much use for it in solitary."

"Oh..." Layla pulled back at his comment, and offered him a cheese cube as a truce. He took it, holding it awkwardly before offering it to me once Layla had turned back to her conversation with Magenta. I accepted it with a smile, munching on it and discarding the stick on the long white table. It was then that the greeting process began – Principle Powers had spotted the Commander and Jet Stream in the crowd and beckoned them forwards, causing the entire gym to erupt in cheers. Powers, clad in a surprising outfit consisting entirely of black, made an announcement about the owner of a 'blue cold fusion powered jet pack' leaving their lights on before continuing to welcome Gwen Grayson – who donned a hideous poofy dress – to the stage. The drama queen grinned and took the podium over, basking in the applause before speaking.

"Thank you Principle Powers," Gwen chirped, putting the award on the podium and continuing to speak. "And a very special thank you goes to our guests of honor, and the recipients of our first ever 'Hero Of The Year' award; the Commander and Jet Stream!"

There was more applause and clapping, and I spotted both Boomer and Mr. Boy wearing sullen facial expressions whilst indulging on food. Gwen continued, a smirk sitting on her face as if she knew a secret no one else did.

"And to mark this occasion, we've planned a special tribute to the most powerful super being ever to walk the halls of Sky High," She trailed off, stepping away from the podium and gripping her dress oddly. It was here that I began to sense something ominous about her tone, and found my assumptions correct when I heard her shout. "ME!"

 _Well, shit._


	10. Homecoming, Part 2

**Homecoming, Part 2**

Gwen Grayson had somehow transformed herself into Royal Pain – the famous archenemy of the Commander and Jet Stream – from a dress. I had to hand it to the girl; I simply had no idea how she had done it. Two bright glaring purple and yellow signs stood next to her on the podium, glaring her name and making everyone in the gym wince. I had to give it to her; this was completely unexpected and to hide an entire villain outfit underneath a horrid dress like that was simply something not a lot of people could pull off. Her infamous grey sidekick, Stitches, sprouted out from somewhere in the crowd and cackled loudly as he tapped the podium once. The front of it broke open, revealing the Pacifier – the mysterious weapon that had disappeared along with the body of Royal Pain years ago – in a cloud of steam. The crowd was too shocked to do anything as Stitches handed her the weapon, still cackling, and she turned towards the crowd. The student's at Sky High had learnt about Royal Pain's attack on the Commander long ago – but each and every one of the people in this room had believed Royal Pain had not only been male, but died long ago. To see her years later was neigh impossible and suspicious. In fact, the Commander had already begun to question it.

"Royal Pain is a girl?" He rose a finger towards Gwen, who angrily pointed the Pacifier towards him.

"Yes I'm a girl you idiot!" She cried in her robotic voice thanks to the helmet. "How I lost to a fool like you I'll never know – now prepare to be pacified."

"Do you honestly think you can kill me with that little toy gun of yours?" The Commander scoffed, placing his hands on his hips along with his wife.

"My dear Commander," Royal Pain droned, tilting her head slightly. "Who said anything about killing you?"

There was a bright flash of light, and the Commander was hit with a large beam of electricity on his chest. He let out an inhumane cry, and began to collapse in on himself. The crowd crouched down for cover, yelling in panic and watching their favorite super in all of Maxville Metropolis get swallowed up into his own cape. He folded and folded and almost seemed to shrink under the shock that was being delivered to him through Royal Pain's gun, and eventually collapsed into nothing like a dying star. Jet Stream, fearing the worst, checked underneath the lump of clothing to reveal an infant that looked remarkably similar to the Commander. She sighed in momentary relief, before leaping towards Royal Pain and receiving similar treatment herself. It was at this point that panic began to spread throughout the gymnasium, and chaos was flowing freely. Parents and students were running everywhere, being turned into infants left and right under Royal Pain's wrath.

"Elle, come on!" Warren tugged me along to try and find an exit once he realized I was frozen to the ground in shock. "Let's go!"

All I could hear was the sound of a steady electric shock as Royal Pain moved onto her new target minute after minute. We tried to mold in with the crowd, wanting to find an exit point before she spotted us trying to get away. Conveniently enough, we found that her group of henchmen had gated down all the doors to the gym and were now smiling ominously at the trapped crowd in front of them. Penny, the awful cheerleader who felt the need to wear gaudy outfits each day to school, waved haughtily at a mother and son as Royal Pain's electric current shot them both in the back and reversed their life cycles into infants. I blanched at the sight before being pulled away by Warren once again. The group had found a grate, and with a ball of fire from our favorite hothead, it was blasted open and we all filed inside.

"In, in!" Magenta pushed me, and I gulped before forcing myself into the small space. Every sign pointed to this being a bad idea, but it was our only escape option, so I crawled as fast as I could before Magenta followed.

"Where the hell are we?" She asked after we had all been crawling for a good minute or two.

"Hey Warren," Ethan called to the hotbox, who had been the last one to enter. "How about a torch?"

"Not unless you wanna get barbecued," He retorted from what sounded like a good twenty feet behind.

"You're not even supposed to put metal inside a microwave Ethan," I chastised the freshman. "How does a giant fireball inside a metal box sound?"

"Not so good," Zack answered for his friend before powering up and providing a light for us. "Ladies, if I may."

"'Then all the reindeer loved him'," Magenta sang as we stopped to make way for him to lead the way.

"Way to glow, Zack!" Ethan called, congratulating his friend for making his powers useful in what would quite possibly be the only situation he was needed in.

Zack led us through multiple twists and turns; I was beginning to think that we were lost after a good ten minutes, but upon seeing a grate at the end of the tunnel Zack perked up and let us all know that he spotted something. That something turned out to be Will, who pried the grate off the wall with his inhuman strength and helped us all out of the little crevice. I let out a huge breath, one that I didn't know I had been holding in, once I reached the open hallway, and stood shakily in my heels once again. If this wasn't straight out of a comic book I didn't know what was. It was nuts; all of the parents were turned into babies and the students were the ones who were left trying to save the day. It didn't help that it looked like we were the only ones who had been smart enough to escape the gym; you would think that in a room full of people with superpowers someone would have some kind of way of ganging up on Royal Pain and taking her out as a team, but it didn't look like anyone had been able to think strategically in the moment of panic.

"'Sup kid?" Zack greeted his old friend with a smile, obviously not angry with him whatsoever about how Will had behaved for two months.

"Guys!" Will greeted us. "You're never gonna believe this – I came because I figured out that _Gwen_ is -"

"Royal Pain," Layla finished as we all grouped around Stronghold. Warren, upon exiting the grate, immediately came to my side and looked over me for any injuries. I met his eyes and he was brash enough to clasp me closer to him and give me a kiss to the forehead before turning back to Will and listen to what he was saying. I didn't comment on the action, but felt a warm rush from it.

"Yeah," Will nodded, thinking that no one else was aware of this information. "And she -"

"Stole the Pacifier," Warren finished for him, chest rumbling as he spoke.

"Right..." Will nodded, now understanding that something had happened, especially since he had found us climbing out of a grate.

"Yeah," Zack added, helping Magenta up from where she had been re-lacing her combat boot. "And she turned everyone into babies including your parents, dude."

"Okay," Will gave him a strange look. " _That_ I didn't know."

"I think this is even more than the great Will Stronghold can handle," Layla quipped sarcastically, raising her brow and tilting her head. Her words and demeanor towards Will were completely justified, considering the fact that he had shunned his most important friends for two whole months simply to date a girl who turned out to be a psycho freak. From what it seemed – and thanks to the History lessons we had received on supers – Gwen had simply been using Will to get closer to the Commander, and had succeeded in every aspect. Her plan was coming together, and the only chance of stopping her lay with the potential in this hallway.

"She's right," Will agreed with his old friend, visibly aware of her anger and discomfort towards him. Warren bristled beside me and crossed his arms. "It's gonna take all of us."

"All of who?" Magenta frowned. "You, Warren and Eleanor? She can't even fight! And the rest of us are sidekicks."

"Just because you have powers that doesn't make you a hero!" Will argued, trying to come to terms with his bad behavior and motivating everyone at the same time. "Sometimes it just makes you a jerk – makes me a jerk."

Everyone looked at his dubiously, trying to decipher whether or not Will was telling the truth. He owed them a little bit more than an apology; he had abandoned his friends for a girl and shunned them simply because they weren't heroes, and that was truly disgusting. Will was going to have to prove to them, over time and with much effort, that they were still his friends.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is..." He continued, looking around and trailing off slightly upon spotting my expression.

"We know," Layla's tone was soft, and I could sense that she was preparing to forgive him. "You've been a -"

"You've been an unbelievable, insufferable asshole," I finished for her, sniffing haughtily and still upset with him for disrupting Layla's life for a good month. It was obvious that she had had trouble focusing on school because of him, and had lost a best friend in her life simply because of the dichotomy and power class she fought hard not to be affected by. Layla had told me that she had rejected Hero classification because she disagreed with the fascist sorting of the school's students, so to lose her childhood best friend over the one thing that she fought so hard not to give into was extremely shattering and hurtful. Warren and Magenta both gave me surprised stares, but Will ignored the comment in favor of apologizing to Layla directly.

"Layla," He began, taking her hand. "In case my homecoming date ends up killing me tonight – I just want you to know.."

Will pulled her into a kiss, effectively silencing anything else that she had to say as they both embraced each other. It was fair to assume that he had realized what kind of mistake he had made, but he was going to have to continue proving it to both his friends and Layla.

"Aw," Penny interrupted, appearing at the end of the hallway with Lash and Speed and sneering sarcastically. "Isn't that sweet? I _hate_ sweet!"

"You guys are a part of this too?" Will turned to them as we all stared in surprise. This was bad news considering the only fighting skills I had were basica anti-rape tactics from public high school and I hadn't played Save the Citizen since September. I backed up slightly until I bumped into Warren, who grabbed a hold of me and shoved me behind him. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Go take care of Gwen," Warren instructed to Will, who shared an anxious glance with Layla. "We'll handle these clowns."

"Go," Layla urged her best friend, and watched him run through the wall leaving a giant crater. Zack and Magenta filed back into the grate after realizing that they were at risk of being hurt in a situation like this, and were better off hiding until the fight was over. I went to do the same, until Warren held me back.

"You stay with me," He growled, eyeing Speed who had begun to size him up. The two bullies of the school clearly wanted to extract their revenge on all of us, and I began to remove my shoes. If there was any chance of my running I was definitely not going to do it in these death traps.

Warren quickly powered up, engulfing his arms in flames and throwing a fireball at Speed, who moved out of the way rather fast and came zooming towards us. I ducked out of the way as soon as I sensed a punch coming, and only felt the whistle of air over my head as Speed passed us to run down the corridor. Warren followed, releasing a guttural growl as fire and smoke streamed from his arms. Giving one final desparate look towards Layla and Ethan, I followed suit and tore down the hallway in the direction that I had seen Speed zoom towards. It wasn't hard to find them both; Speed was darting around Warren in circles and causing him to miss his shots every time. The hotbox grew frustrated and shot a steady stream of flames in Speed's direction, which caught some of his clothing on fire and produced a yelp from the large boy. Warren took another shot, but Speed had already put it out and was now running in circles around him. It took a second or two to realize what he was doing, and my heart rate picked up as I recognized that Warren's flame was receding; he was losing oxygen in the vortex that the villain had created.

"Oh crud!" I looked around the corridor, thinking fast and smashing the glass protecting a fire extinguisher. Upon grasping it firmly and wielding it as a sort of club, I swung it once into the vortex that Speed was creating and relished in the firm 'thunk' that it made against his head.

"Urgh..." The overweight villain lay on the ground seconds later, moaning as he clutched the large red spot on his head. Warren took a moment to regain his breath and stare at me, bewildered, before picking up the villain by the collar – I had to admit, one needed to have some serious muscle to be able to pick Speed up – and forcing him to stand on his wobbly, stubby legs. I took several steps back, unsure of what was going to happen next – it didn't seem like there were any authoritative figures left to help – so it was just me, Warren and my fire extinguisher.

"You're a piece of shit," Warren growled, eyes flashing as he powered up and gripped Speed even tighter. "Get up and fight or stand down."

Speed managed to recollect himself just enough so that he could regain his abilities, and shoved himself off of Warren long enough to get running again. This time, however, he was slightly less coordinated and you could see it based off of his loopy running. His movements were sporadic and he was starting to tire, and the hotbox knew that. Warren got a couple of good shots in and it was clear that Speed was beginning to burn out, but all of a sudden he turned a corner and we found ourselves chasing him again. Luckily enough, Ethan had seen him coming and melted into a puddle at the exact right moment, causing Speed to slip up and trip. Warren lined up a final shot and, with a vicious toss, a giant ball of fire released itself from his hand and hit Speed square in the center of his back. He let out one last cry before being impaled in the wall, feet sticking out and still on fire.

"Nice work Popsicle," Warren gave a high five to the boy clad in orange. "Run to Powers' office and see if she's got any neutralization cuffs in there."

"Will do!" Ethan took off down the hallway in search of the special cuffs that were only used on students if they were being led to the detention neutralization room or had behaved so badly they needed to be restrained to make sure they didn't attack. After Ethan had disappeared down the hallway and I had tossed the extinguisher to the side with a large 'clank', Warren turned to me.

"You alright?" He looked me over coming closer and watching me grab my shoes off the floor where I had discarded them moments ago in favor of breaking open the plastic to the extinguisher.

"Yeah," I nodded, catching his eyes. "Guess I wasn't much help."

"I wouldn't say that," Warren shook his head, pulling me into a strong hug. "You think fast, Rhodes – thanks for saving my ass."

I snorted a bit at the use of my last name, and focused on his heart beating. It was strong and steady, and he didn't release his grasp on me until he heard Ethan's footsteps coming down the hallway. Our new friend had found several pairs of handcuffs as well as the key to the detention room and, with Warren's help, pulled a slightly singed Speed out of the wall before neutralizing him. Speed struggled a fair bit on the way to the detention room, but Warren had much more muscle on him and shoved him into the white circular room with ease. We then took off running to where we had last seen Zack and Magenta, and found a still empty grate but a very concerned looking Layla. Pulling her along, we continued searching the more secluded corridors of the school.

"Where were you?" I looked towards Layla as we ran and gaped at the large bruise forming on her face. "And what happened with Penny?!"

"She punched me!" Layla explained, out of breath. "I tied her up with my plants and she told me that Royal Pain sabotaged the anti-gravity device – the school's going to fall out of the sky!"

I didn't say anything, but my jaw clenched in fear as Ethan and Warren began to question her on the schematics of the school. I had had a miserable, shitty life so far and to think that it had the possibility of ending being plummeted through the sky did not sit well with me. This entire month I had been thinking about the opportunities that were laying out for me just outside the door; I was young and had powers that could make differences in society, as did the rest of these kids that lay pacified in the school gym under Royal Pain's rule. To have all this potential go to waste would truly be a tremendous loss, so I considered it my personal responsibility to help in this matter. Perhaps I didn't have a lot to contribute; this much was true. But I was determined to be a part of it, as I had realized just how important each and every one of these lives mattered in the shaping of the world. We were the future generations, and to wipe out all of us would set the world back. I didn't know what Royal Pain's plan was, but if it involved sabotaging the anti-gravitational device there was no way in hell that it was keeping us alive.

"Here!" Ethan ducked into a janitor's closet and instructed us to stay and wait whilst he rifled through the supplies. "Found a map!"

"Guys!" Zack's voice called from the other end of the hallway, and we regrouped seconds later as he and Magenta sprinted towards us. "We couldn't find you for awhile there – it sounds like Royal Pain stopped pacifying everyone."

"Yeah, and she did something to the anti-gravity device," Layla explained, taking the blueprint from Ethan and laying it out on the floor before pointing to the location of the device. "This is where it is."

"It looks like Royal Pain sealed off every route," Magenta groaned, looking up at her yellow counterpart. "Zack and I saw all of the security doors were welded shut. She must have done it right before the dance started when Powers wasn't around to snoop."

"Well," Ethan pushed his glasses up further up his nose and pointed towards a small tube near the device. "What about this conduit?"

"Right," I scoffed, sitting back on my haunches and grimacing. "You'd have to be like the size of a rat to fit in there."

Realizing my words, Warren smacked me on the shoulder and we all looked towards Magenta. She was reluctant to do so, but before she knew it we were placing her guinea pig form into the small tube that ultimately let to the anti-gravity device. Zack and Ethan remained close to the tube where they had released her, feeding her instructions each time she made a new twist or turn. In the meanwhile, Warren, Layla and I hurried towards the gym where we supposed Will was trying to stop Royal Pain – we didn't know what to expect upon arriving there, but it certainly wasn't Will beating the crap out of the robotic bitch. He threw her into a large disco ball just as we entered the gym, and was just about to punch her lights out as she fell back to the floor when Layla's cry of his name distracted him. Royal Pain took the window of opportunity, and lay an electricity filled punch to Will's jaw. The hit sent him flying through the gym window and far into the sky, where he immediately dropped with a last cry.

"NO!" Layla shrieked, her tone destroyed. For all she knew, her best friend had just been thrown thousands of feet back down to earth and the last thing she had said to him was 'go'.

"And there goes your last chance of stopping me," Royal Pain rose, cracking her neck. Layla slumped as Royal Pain stepped closer, preparing for a fight. Warren powered up as well, unsure of how fire and electricity were going to duel but willing to suffer the consequence to protect what little he had left. I, on the other hand, had nothing and could only rely on my surroundings. If I could give Warren a couple seconds to figure out a strategy, perhaps I could help him and Layla take her out.

"You asscake!" I launched my plan of distraction as I grabbed what I could on the tables sitting around me, picking up lamps and silverware to whip at the technopath. "You're a total psycho!"

"Ow!" The robot let out a howl of pain as I pierced it's leg plating with a well-aimed fork. "Stop it, you cunt!"

"Hey!" There was a cry from afar, which caused me to stop whipping whatever I could find at the black and yellow robot and instead stare at the broken window where the voice was coming from. It was Will – and he was flying! "Surprised?"

"You're flying!?" Royal Pain cried out in surprise as Will shotgunned towards her, propelling himself with his new found powers and lifting Royal Pain up to the ceiling. "That's impossible!"

He dropped her down to the ground, where she created a large crater in the wood from her impact and he delivered the punch he hadn't gotten to before right in her face. It knocked her helmet straight off, causing her suit to whir in complaint and shut down completely. The lights stopped flickering on her specially designed outfit, and from what it seemed like, Royal Pain was knocked out for a good while. Will moved forward with a smile, going to embrace Layla tightly as the two rejoiced. Layla clung to him for a good couple of moments, visibly shaken and overjoyed to still have her best friend alive with her. Warren gave him a pat on the back, and Will noted that my efforts had not been ignored either. I quickly healed Layla's bruise, and all seemed to be well until there was an abrupt groan from the school's infrastructure, and then it all started to drop.

"Oh my god!" I screamed as the g-forces sucked all the air out of my lungs.

"The school is falling!" Layla got down on her knees with the rest of us as we all prayed for our lives. I could only hope that Magenta would be able to chew through the wire in time for the school to regain it's anti-gravitational stature before we all fell to our deaths. This wasn't how I wanted to die, and I found myself tucked into Warren's side as we continued to plummet through the sky. Will had taken off about a minute ago, screaming out to us that he was going to try and stop the school's rapid descent – but I wasn't sure that his strength had developed that much in a short enough time span that he was able to life the entire school.

"Holy shit!" About a million thoughts flashed through my head at once, and I realized that it was my life quite literally flashing before my eyes. Memories of me as a child and as a little girl, playing with my mother and being bullied by the other kids at school, learning about my father's affair and a million memories about Rick. I felt like crying and shooting myself in the head at the same time. It simply wasn't fair; I didn't want the only memories to be a simple childhood and a terrible upbringing because of a demented, abusive family. I deserved better and I wanted to create happy memories for myself. But because of Royal Pain and her stupid hatched plan on my first year of an actual progressive school year where I had met someone affectionate and caring for me, I was most likely going to die in a national tragedy. It was making my head spin, and I buried further into Warren's side. In this singular moment of terror, only he could calm my stomach and assure me that my last moments had been worth something.

Then, as soon as it had begun, the horror was over. The roller coaster feeling went away, and my life was no longer flashing before my eyes as the school came to a slow stop. I looked out the window from my position on the ground, and could see the Maxville Metropolis city lights from my position. It was then that I collapsed onto my back, slumping out of Warren's grasp and breathing in the sweet air. He joined me on the ground, realizing that it was efficient to calm the body down after falling from such a traumatic height. We lay there, acknowledging the elevator-like feelings as the school ascended once more to it's original height – whether by Will's power or Magenta's ability to chew through wires, I wasn't sure – where it stayed in place. We were alive, and no one's life had been ended. It was over.

"Oh," I breathed out one final sigh as my brain took everything in. "Mother of God."

"What a cluster fuck and a half," Warren sat up slightly, making sure that Layla was alright and that Will had made it back safely before turning to me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," I confirmed. "I just need a minute."

Warren didn't give me one, and instead proceeded to take my breath away – which I unfortunately needed in that moment – with a very passionate kiss. I supposed it was his relief after having been through such traumatic events that made him act on his passion, but either way I was happy pulling him closer towards me as we embraced on the floor. There were no words from Layla and Will – either they were too shocked to say anything or were too distracted with their own celebration of being alive – either way I didn't care. All I could focus on in that moment was Warren and the heat radiating off of him in waves. I couldn't believe it; all this time and I realized that the moments where his body heat grew highest was when he felt at peace or in comfort. His body seemed to allow itself more breathing room in situations where he knew he was safe; like when he was sleeping or coincidentally enough...when he was with me. This thought caused my own warmth inside of me to grow even warmer, and I was engulfed in his heat as he continued to overwhelm me with his kiss. It wasn't until he pulled away that I was able to gasp for air again; it seemed like when he kissed me I was so distracted by everything in the moment that I forgot how to breathe through my nose.

"We're alive," I grasped his cheek as our foreheads pressed together. "We're okay."

"It's over," He confirmed, laying a final kiss on my lips. "We're safe."

* * *

It took an hour or two to figure out what to do next; after regrouping and locating the children (as it turned out Royal Pain's original plan had been to turn everyone into babies and destroy Sky High after flying multiple buses of infants on it – she had wanted to start a villain academy but clearly hadn't taken into account the fact that a few of us were quick thinkers) we had found professor Medulla who, thanks to his incredible brain power, was the only one who could communicate with us and let us know that the effects of the gun were reversible. We set out to find it after making sure that Gwen, who was still passed out in the gym, Lash, who we found with his head stuck in a toilet flushing the toilet on repeat so that he could breath, and Stitches, who was passed out on the front lawn of the school after one angry Ron Wilson had punched his lights out. Penny, on the other hand, was still tied up in the cafeteria and had been the hardest to contain. We didn't have enough cuffs to restrain her, so we had to move each of her copies one at a time and since she was _not_ happy about it whatsoever, she made it extremely difficult for us.

It wasn't until Medulla managed to teach Ethan through the rewiring of the Pacifier and the Mad Science teacher was turned back into his adult self that we got some help. Medulla quickly set about de-pacifying as many babies as he could, handing each of them safety blankets and getting some more help once Principle Powers was de-pacified. It seemed as though everyone held their memory fairly well – no one was suffering from infant delusions nor were they soiling themselves, so I considered it a good sign. People were everywhere, walking in and out of washrooms to get changed and trying to find their loved ones. Our little group of survivors had reconvened in the hallway at some point, and were now reveling in the aftershocks as several teachers congratulated us. It seemed that Will Stronghold was the only one receiving any praise after the whole attack – it didn't take long for word to get out about how he had 'saved Sky High', but none of us said a word and humbly let him bask in the praise. It didn't matter who got the attention to us; all that mattered was that we had saved Sky High with everyone in her, and we were perfectly fine living our lives knowing that we had been the unnamed heroes who had helped save the school.

"This is nuts," I still held my shoes in hand, watching parents and students walk up and down the halls in safety blankets. There was a constant electrical current noise coming from the Mad Science lab as Medulla continued his work, but this time it wasn't ominous. "I can't believe any of this actually happened."

"This is like a dream," Magenta looked around at some of the adults carrying babies back to the lab. "No – a nightmare."

I leaned into Warren, exhausted after so much stress and exercise piled into one evening and received a rather interesting look from the group of friends standing around us. Several looks were shot towards Warren, who said nothing, and then myself. At this point I simply smiled back at my new friends lazily, cheek nuzzled against my hotbox's chest and relished in the wonderful feeling of having him wrap his arms around me. I didn't care what others thought; I was glad to have survived a rather traumatizing villainous attack on the school and somehow not only come out of it alive, but with a romantic companion as well. It seemed that the general consensus on Warren and I ending up together was simply strange until Layla finally broke the ice and let us both know how happy she was that we had ended up together. Warren simply rumbled that she was about a week late. Nothing else was said on the topic, and shortly after Will finished conversing with his parents in a secluded corner the Commander and Jet Stream approached our group. It was at that moment that I noticed Ron Wilson had joined our circle, standing behind Zack and grinning widely.

"It belongs to them," Jet Stream grinned, beaming towards our group. "The sidekicks – I mean hero support."

"Why don't we just call them what they really are, Josie?" The Commander held out the trophy towards Zack, Ethan, Magenta and Ron. "Heroes."

The four took it, each hold a piece of the statue and smiling brightly at the Commander before he and Jet Stream retreated. The two and their patriarchal outfits continued down the hallway with a last goodbye to Mr. Boy, and with a last swish of their cape they had disappeared down the corridor. I briefly wondered why they hadn't taken Will with them until I heard Principle Powers directing people back towards the gym after dressing themselves. It seemed like nothing – and truly nothing – short of the school blowing up was going to stop the homecoming dance. Everyone trudged to the gym with a sigh, uncertain of whether or not they were going to stay for the festivities after such stresses and conceding that giving the dance at least ten more minutes was acceptable before reconvening on a shuttle bus to chart back to the mainland.

"I have de-pacified all the babies," Medulla explained to the giant crowd minutes later. "And destroyed that horrible weapon forever!"

The was a large cheer from the crowd as he turned on the music and lights from a small remote, and allowed the festivities to continue in the somewhat-destroyed gym. It didn't seem that people cared, however, and ignored the popped balloons and tipped over chairs in favor of dancing with their friends and loved ones. I could honestly say it was the only time I had seen heroes and sidekicks blending in together and having a fun time without picking a fight. At the beginning of the year I had expected the worst from this bunch of kids, but now I wasn't so sure. Most parents had departed for the night, leaving their children in the more than capable hands of the teachers after understanding that the threat had been neutralized. I sat off to the side with Warren, head resting on his shoulder and waiting for the rest of the gang to come and tell us when they were ready to leave. We had agreed to depart together, but I was tired and nearly passed out on Warren's warm shoulder. He kept a large arm around me, making sure I stayed upright and allowed me to rest.

"Hey," I nudged my counterpart, remembering an earlier conversation. "What did your dad say today?"

"That depends," Warren swallowed heavily. "We talked about a lot of things."

"Oh?" I didn't pry, instead letting him continue.

"Like you," He revealed.

"What?" I raised my head up to look at him at this, wondering why he had told his father about me. "How did I come up in the conversation?"

"Even if he doesn't care," Warren began to explain, hurt flashing in his eyes. "I still tell him what I'm doing with my life – I told him about you, and homecoming."

"I do that with my mom too," My mouth was tight as I realized that I hadn't spoken to her in weeks. For all I knew, she was rotting in her rehab centre. "She cares, but it's more like I'm filling an activity report more than anything."

"Yeah," Warren agreed, and we both lapsed back into silence. I still wasn't sure if he had overheard the phone conversation that one night and I wasn't prepared to question him over it. "Except my dad smiled this time."

"He what?" I frowned in surprise at the mention of Baron Battle showing any happiness after years of being locked away in solitary.

"He smiled," Warren repeated, letting his tired eyes meet mine. This was the first time I had seen him truly out of energy – it seemed like whatever tolerance he had left had been zapped up, and he was drifting on what little he had left. "He smiled and told me to never treat you the way he treated my mother. He told me that I was a different man and to make my own choices."

There was a beat of silence as I let him think about his next words.

"First I was angry," He continued. "Because it took him eighteen years of my life for him to tell me this. But I'm done with anger. I have no energy left for it – it's not worth holding onto anymore. But I did realize that you deserve everything, and so far you've gotten nothing."

"So have you," I retorted. "Life isn't fair – life will make you it's bitch, but you make life a lot more bearable for me and at one point you were the only thread I had left - you're the only one that understands. So as far as I'm concerned you're the only one that makes this worth it."

"I can't promise you much," Warren admitted. "But you make me happy – I feel calm with you, like I can breathe normally instead of being suffocated by everyone else."

"You can promise me _you_ ," I insisted, placing my head back in the crook of his neck. I still had problems in my life, but with Warren close I was more willing to face them head on. I had support now – someone who was on my side. "That's more than enough for me to be happy."


	11. Strength

**Strength**

It was a several months after homecoming, and everything at Sky High had fallen back into place. Gwen and her band of criminals got what they deserved and were currently serving two life sentences in the Maxville State Prison, which meant the school was clear of threat and everyone could breathe safely knowing Royal Pain was locked away for good. Principle Powers took it upon herself to set up extra safety screening measures when it came to the school's admissions, yet she chose not to do anything about the Hero/Sidekick dichotomy besides switching Layla's track – the plant controller was furious for days and refused to go to class until Power's finally relinquished and put her back in hero-support. We had continued to bond as a friend group, and as much as Warren hated to admit it – the freshmen were growing on him. He glared less and began to talk more, chipping in his two cents into conversations here and there. It was nice to see him interacting and being wanted by those around him once again; support like friends were important to have during high school, and even if Warren had done it thus far without any connections, he himself admitted that they freshmen were sort of nice to have around.

After the events that had transpired during homecoming and several days before that, Warren and I had begun to see each other much more frequently. We hadn't admitted to any relationship status yet, but Magenta and Layla refused to quit insisting that it was completely clear we were dating and continued to badger us with little comments here and there. It wasn't exactly disturbing; the hotbox and I didn't deny anything and had grown used to the other girls antics by this point, instead focusing on each other and learning every single thing we could about each other in our spare time. It took me some time to allow myself to become physical with him – intimacy didn't come easily after years of abuse and it took several hours for him to calm me down after our first attempt. The flashbacks that accompanied any form of extensive physical contact were violent and unmerciful, causing panic attacks and crying fits until my body became accustomed to the idea that Warren was not going to hurt me. It took a fair bit of time, but the patience I encountered with the pyrokinetic was remarkable. Never did he cast me aside in anger or become frustrated; he merely talked me through the attacks and held me afterwards, assuring me that everything was going to be okay and that I was in complete safety. Over time, my reactions dulled and I was able to shove away the feelings of anxiety that came with extended periods of contact, which marked a huge progression in my recovery and a blossoming relationship.

The situation with my mother was also beginning to mend itself. I had received a phone call several days ago notifying me of my mother's release from the inpatient ward she had been spending time in, and after being put in contact with her discovered that she was living off of welfare in an apartment on the other side of town. At first I had been very reluctant to even speak to her, but found that I didn't have the ability to ignore her any longer and with the help of Maisa, managed to organize a meeting. The psychology sessions were planned and thankfully covered by our health insurance, and although I knew it would be a long journey, I was prepared to re-approach the situation that I had shoved away for so long. My mother was my mother, and I knew I needed to recognize that. With Warren's encouragement, I had managed to meet her for coffee yesterday and although we hadn't talked about much besides her stay in rehabilitation, it was the small beginning of a vast effort to repair our broken family. Speaking of repairing, I had been doing a lot of studying with Warren and with his help had raised my grade point average to a strong ninety. As it turned out Mad Science had been the culprit that was dragging my academics down, but with a little shove and a lot of extra hours the class began to get better. I had even approached Principle Powers about the Superhuman Medical Sciences program going on at the University of Maxville, which had a department specifically for supers and how they could contribute to the field. I was most pleased to find that I was eligible for the scholarship to the program, and found myself excited for my final year of school. For the first time in my life, I felt ready and in control. I had always had my decisions made for me and had assumed that I would become a deadbeat like my parents, but in reality I had so many more opportunities and without Sky High, it was likely that I never would have realized them.

I also had other knowledge that I owed thanks to Sky High for – Nurse Spex had explained to me the reasoning behind why I couldn't heal myself, and although it answered some questions I had, it didn't exactly make a difference anymore.

"I've met a wide variety of healers throughout my lifetime," She explained to me one afternoon during the lunch break. "And all of them were capable of performing their own abilities upon themselves. Your case is truly curious – but I do have an answer for you."

I made myself comfortable on one of the terrible plastic chairs as she pulled out a Tupperware container with some leftover pasta in it and began to eat.

"Your mutation seems to be unable to perform it's own beneficial healing techniques on its own cells, most likely because of the system that has been set in place by your body. Most healer's cells are capable of combining with each other after recognizing themselves to perform the same tasks they do on outside cells because they are fully mutated, but your body refuses to let it's own cells in because you have both normal human cells and mutant cells. The human cells refuse to accept the changes the mutant cells try to apply when you are hurt."

"My cells sound stupid," I interrupted, a frown marring my face. This caused Nurse Spex to let out a chuckle, but I huffed and continued.

"I'm serious!" I protested, playing with my tongue ring as a small knot of anxiety rose in my chest. "This is concerning – I don't want to reach thirty and spontaneously combust just because my cells are too idiotic to let themselves work on each other."

"There is a reason for this," Nurse Spex assured me, continuing with a smile. "And that is not it. Let me explain – first off, the cells that your body reproduces and the mutant cells that allow you to heal others are two difference kinds. With regular healers, all of their cells are mutated and their entire body works as one to heal itself constantly. All of their cells have mutated. Your cells have been split half and half – but they still recognize that they come from the same body. While your mutant cells can assist outsider human cells, your body cannot accept your mutant cells healing it's own human cells because they reject. The types of mutated cells – your healing cells, in your case – reject against your own. Against another student's mutant cells they can succeed, but because your mutant cells were born out of your human ones, they cannot work with each other. Changing the base cell would change the whole equation of your already altered DNA, and it could kill you – your body understands this and doesn't let your mutated cells make changes to your human cells."

"So I'm half and half?" I scrunched up my face, trying my best to understand. I felt like a fifth grader. "I have two types of cells and they can't touch each other?"

"You're still classified as a mutant," Nurse Spex tilted her head slightly, taking a large bite of her pasta. "There are both supers with half and half cells and ones with fully mutated cells. As long as the organism survives with this new type of DNA, you are classified as a mutant. Most have superhuman abilities, such as your friends here – or like you and me. But others might only change color, perhaps in their eyes or body hair."

"And it is a bit more complicated than claiming they are the same thing," She continued, talking in between bites. "We all evolved from a single celled organism into the dominant species of our kind. Every thousand millennia, evolution leaps forward, and mutants began to survive and thrive decades ago. We were discovered and studied, and although the cause for mutation was accidental at first and then genetic as we began to breed, the cells that mutate remain our own. In the developing phases of life, based off of the offspring's powers thanks to their genetics, the cells either exist as both human and mutant, or become fully mutated. Supers with powers effecting themselves and others mutate fully, like healers, whilst supers with powers only effecting others still keep their human cells because there needs to be a blockage to stop their powers from harming them. This is precisely the reason why someone like the Commander cannot hurt himself, or Mr. Peace cannot burn himself. The cells recognize the abilities, and develop to either protect or benefit the owner."

"So what about healers?" I frowned again, upset by the fact that I was the only one of my power type to be different – and not in a good way. "Why did my genes only split halfway?"

"Sometimes this is caused by trauma to the fetus," She explained, eyeing me sadly and reiterating what she had just said to clear up any confusion. "It isn't a frequent occurrence because your genes should be able to recognize your abilities early on, and from birth they should already be either fully mutated or split half and half between normal human cells and mutated cells. Those cells can work together, as you see in your classmates, but generally with powers that effect both the mutant and the outside world the cells should be completely mutated. Not half and half, like yours have done."

"So basically supers that are supposed to effect both themselves and the outside with their power should have fully mutated cells, and the supers that only effect the outside world should have half mutated cells. Which makes me a freak among freaks," I sighed, finally wrapping my head around everything. "Great."

"There are cases similar to yours," Nurse Spex admitted. "In my research I came across a few. Unfortunately most of these cases – like yours – were caused by damage to the child during the developmental stages in the embryo either by alcohol, stress, or poor care. I'm sorry, Eleanor."

This didn't come as a shock to me – my mother was always a stressed person by nature, so it was clear that she had most likely refused to take care of herself properly and become riddled with stress during her pregnancy with me. It was a sad realization, to hear that my mutation wasn't complete and I couldn't provide safety for myself because of my mother's lack of proper care, but at this point I had been through so much and had already become accustomed to not being able to heal myself that Nurse Spex's explanation didn't change much in my life besides providing logical scientific reasoning. Although I know had an explanation as to why a huge part of my power was technically missing, by definition, it changed very little. I was doing fine living on my own and succeeding in school, and continued developing my own goals and recovering at my own pace.

Currently, however, my alcohol recovery wasn't doing so well. I had been clean for a good month up until Magenta had thrown a party celebrating the end of the mid-term exams, and I had reassured myself that it was alright to indulge every once in awhile now that I understood moderation and had discovered new tools to help myself with my flashbacks (I had my psychologist to thank for that – the breathing techniques had stopped multiple panic attacks). Warren agreed, and much to my surprise – sacrificed himself to the liquor overlords as well. I hadn't seen him drunk before, but the pyrokinetic certainly could hold his drink better than I imagined. Amidst the sea of heroes and sidekicks – as it turned out, our gang had not only saved Sky High but also created a bond between the rest of the kids in the floating school – we sat on a black leather couch taking shot after shot.

"I didn't t-think you could hold your liquor hotbox," I slurred, slumping back into his side. Out of habit – thanks to our many movie nights on my couch watching my brand new television (I had found a set for three hundred dollars on sale) – he wrapped an arm around me and smiled lazily. "Y-you're good."

"Yeah?" He leaned his head back on the couch, shutting his eyes for a moment. "I'm good at other things too..."

"I know," My sultry smile was interrupted by another shot, and from there on out everything was fuzzy. I remembered Layla drinking with me for awhile, then Magenta ordering pizza for the whole house. There was a strong memory of Zack and I finishing a small bottle of tequila, and then Warren's familiar heat. I remembered taking the bus back to my apartment with a fairly large group of people, but other than that I couldn't remember much.

Of course, this all came to bite me on the ass the next morning when I woke to find myself back in my apartment with a major hangover. I couldn't even begin to glimpse around the complex before I stumbled to the toilet, still slightly inebriated and begging for my stomach to be gentle with me as it expelled the remains of what seemed to be half digested pizza. I retched again simply from the sight, and it took around twenty minutes for my stomach to calm down. Still feeling like shit, I used the walls to support myself and made my way back into the bedroom, grabbing the bucket on the way. I didn't even bother to look around with my eyes half closed and instead chose to slump back into bed, praying that my stomach would calm down by the time I woke up again. As per usual, it did no such thing, but when I woke again it was not because of nausea. There was a slight stirring beside me that my body didn't sit well with, and caused my eyes to open for the second time that day and be greeted with the sight of a shirtless Warren, bottom half covered by my dark purple sheets. He had awoken himself, and was now blinking groggily around the room until his eyes settled on me.

"Eleanor," He closed his eyes in relief. "Jesus Christ."

"Warren?" I croaked, shifting and realizing that I was naked as well, barely covered. "When did we – holy shit..."

Unfortunately, because of my incapability to open my eyes the moment I had gotten up, I hadn't bothered to look around my apartment and take into account that the whole place was completely and utterly trashed. So it was only now that I looked around and realized the chaos that we caused last night - there were clothes everywhere – all of my lingerie was scattered about as if I had performed a fashion show, and I vaguely spotted what seemed to be Warren's shirt hanging off of the side of the bedroom door. This hadn't been our first intimate encounter, but it was our first drunken escapade and I couldn't help but feel slightly uncertain. It was one thing to sleep together sober and make sure that we used protection, but it was another to have drunken sex and induce the possibility of pregnancy.

"Oh my god," I flopped my face back into the pillow, the light from the window reaching my eyes. "My head is going to explode."

"Elle," Warren muttered into the pillow, tone groggy. I could almost hear the wince in his voice. "Shh."

After some more quiet grumbling, we both lay in a partially unconscious and nauseous state for a good hour or so before Warren decided that he felt well enough to get up and shower. I was in such nausea that I couldn't even raise my head to watch his naked form rise out of the bed and walk towards the bathroom, and only managed to turn my head in the direction of the door opening ten minutes later when he was finished. He stepped out with a towel wrapped dangerously low around his hips and began to look around the apartment, disappearing out of my sight. I heard some dishes moving around as well as a low grunt, but he didn't say anything until several minutes later when he walked back into the room.

"I should probably let you know that there's pasta all over your kitchen," He leaned against the doorway of my room, rubbing his face with one hand and holding the towel up with the other. "And you're covered in hickeys."

"What?" I didn't even have the energy to care yet.

"Your neck," He clarified, pointing towards me. "It's covered in hickeys."

"That's kind of your fault," I grumbled, earning a chuckle out of him as I placed a palm on my forehead. "Not like this hasn't happened before."

"Yeah," Warren agreed, still grinning as his eyes shone. I found myself returning the gesture despite my wretched state at the mere sight of his wonderful smile. "There are also three condoms in the sink, so there's that."

" _Three_?" I perked up at the number – either someone else had engaged in sexual activities in my apartment or we had been intelligent drunks and remembered protection – and wondered why the hell they had been placed in the sink. "Why are they in the sink? Are you sure?"

"I have no idea – I already threw them out," He confirmed as I forced myself to not stare at his chest. "And it's even messier out there."

"I hope you used gloves," I huffed, lifting myself into a sitting position and covering my chest with the blanket, reminding myself that I needed to get on birth control sooner rather than later. Warren was courteous enough to hand me one of his shirts and my pajama pants before he ventured back into the bathroom to brush his teeth, waiting until I made my way out of the bedroom. He had bought doubles of any essentials he needed and dutifully placed them at my house – this included clothing, extra food and toiletries in case he stayed more than one night. These types of things comforted me; having an extra toothbrush or razor in my bathroom, seeing his clothing stacked in my drawer and his deodorant on my windowsill – all of these provided a reminder that I was never alone.

"Holy shit..." I stopped, clutching at my stomach as I stepped one foot outside of my bedroom and looked around at the state that my apartment was in. "What the hell happened?!"

There were beer bottles and pizza boxes scattered around everywhere, and my memory began to come back to me as I looked around at the various signs of other people who had inhabited my apartment for the night yesterday. The TV had been left on and there were several large liquor bottles scattered around in between the beers, but my kitchen was the worst mess of all. Despite the obvious signs of mixing drinks everywhere, pasta coated almost every surface of my white appliances. The large pot, which I assumed had been our way of making the delicious dinner, was tipped over on the stove and had hardened, making a mess on the floor and trailing down the stove as well. I gaped as I regarded the sauce splattered on my fridge and crept closer to inspect the damage done inside of my most important appliance. It wasn't as strange as I thought it would be; someone had made a sandwich and forgotten to eat it apparently; it was sitting neatly on a plate and the only thing missing out of the entire fridge was my coca-cola and pasta sauce. This was most likely the most unfortunate loss of the day; the whole pot of pasta had gone to waste and I could only assume that somewhere on my floor were articles of clothing soaked with uneaten pasta sauce. Cyclone's paintings that she had made for me had been knocked off of their spots, but had luckily suffered little damage and were sitting peacefully against the wall below where their nails lay.

"We all came back here, didn't we?" Warren scratched his head, taking a couple steps closer and frowning. "I remember everyone ordering pizza."

"I remember Larry powering up," I muttered, realizing that my couch had been shifted further away from the TV – this had been a direct result of Larry's strength after he turned into a rock, and I remembered a vague memory of him moving it. "And making pasta."

Slowly but surely, our memory was coming back to us, and we began to clean up the mess. Pizza boxes and an array of scattered garbage – it looked as though someone had been so excited about our mid-terms being over with that they had brought balloons – were placed into the garbage chute, and the empties were placed under the sink to be returned at the liquor store later on in the day. We took the time to pick up the clothing that was scattered on the ground and either place it in the laundry bin or back into drawers (I couldn't calm my blush as I put away my entire collection of lingerie) and move the couch back into it's proper place, as well as Cyclone's paintings. My circular mirror near the entrance was untouched, thankfully, but one of my bras was hanging off of it and I collected it with a final grumble before Warren and I began to scrape the pasta sauce off of the fridge.

"This is nuts," I shook my head, grimacing at the strange smell as we worked. "I've never been so drunk I decided to model my entire underwear collection."

"I didn't mind," Warren shot me a smirk. "The show was just for me."

"Was it?" I eyed him in partial relief, but uncertain as to whether or not his memory served him correctly. "You remember?"

"I remember everyone leaving before things got freaky," He admitted, dumping more dry sauce into the garbage bin beside us. "I remember liking it very much."

This time I didn't try to calm the deep flush that creeped its way up my cheeks, sparking a fire inside of me and causing me to grin. I had invested in my collection of undergarments several weeks ago after the homecoming incident, deciding that it was time to splurge on myself and take advantage of the money I had saved up thus far. A TV, a mirror, pots and pans, a toaster, a microwave, proper silverware, a fluffy bathrobe and several pairs of underwear had been purchased, slowly but surely coming together to begin to complete my home. And quite frankly, as long as I was showing off my last purchase – or purchases, rather – to Warren only, I had no qualms about it.

"What else do you remember?" I was keen to change the subject, as Warren's smirk had only grown when he had seen my red cheeks and I wanted to know what else his memory had recovered before my head exploded.

"Will making a sandwich," Warren grunted as he scraped a particularly sticky piece of sauce off of the side of the fridge. At least that answered my question about why there was an uneaten sandwich in my fridge. "The bathroom was a mess too, by the way – but I already cleaned that up."

"Thank you," I murmured, shooting him a smile and kissing his cheek before beginning to clean the floor. "I appreciate that."

We stayed silent – as per usual; Warren and I were two very quiet and passive people – as we finished scraping the sauce off of the rest of the surfaces in the kitchen area, and then continued to scrub them clean. Any remaining party cups were placed in the garbage, and whilst I began to clean the bedroom Warren took it upon himself to do the dishes. Even though he wasn't in the room with me, I found myself blushing madly once again as I picked up more lingerie found underneath discarded articles of clothing. I had never been a very outright and forward person, so to discover that I had paraded around my collection of intimate clothing was strange for me. It wasn't that I was regretful or something of the sort – just that it was fairly new territory being in a relationship and this was a new experience. Of course, coming with this new apparent drunken persona/alter ego that I somehow managed to pull out for Warren last night, was a twinge of embarrassment. I didn't want him to think badly of me or my previous habits before I had entered the relationship with him, and I sincerely hoped that he believed me when I had told him that he was the first person I had dated, as well as one of the first people I trusted in years.

I was forced shake my thoughts off as I spotted the pile of CD's that had fallen onto the floor, tangling themselves into Warren's pants after clearly being knocked over. I set on reorganizing them and putting them back in their place beside the amplifier that the pyrokinetic had given me, and found a sweater to keep me warm as I ventured back into the kitchen. Although the heating throughout this building was supreme, the nausea caused by the hangover was giving me tremors and shivers as well as some minor anxiousness.

"I should probably head to my appointment soon," I looked up at the clock and saw that it was one in the afternoon. I had been meeting with Maisa, my psychologist, every Sunday at two o'clock to help my PTSD. So far I had been seeing her for three months, which meant I was halfway done my court mandated therapy time and would be able to rid myself of these twice a month meetings soon enough. Warren had been extremely supportive of it, encouraging me to tell her everything and picking me up from the appointments when he could. I had discovered that Warren was just as adamant about spending time with me as I was with him – he took every chance he could to see me and never passed up an opportunity to take me out somewhere. Despite Cyclone's complaints that we didn't spend enough nights at her home, she was thrilled to know how well I was doing and overjoyed that her son had found someone on the same wavelength as him. I imagined it was hard for Terri to see her son going through such difficult times for so long – both internally and externally with his small level of social interactions – so it was understood how relieved she was to see him share a bond with another person, especially someone who understood how he had suffered and could empathize.

"I can pick you up," Warren offered, meeting my eyes as he slid on a shirt. "You wanna grab a table and some chairs today?"

"Sure," I smiled, thinking back to our first trip to IKEA. "Maybe a couple of other things."

We left the apartment together after dressings ourselves and cleaning up a bit, making sure to bring a bottle of water each to quell the sickness in our stomachs. Warren hadn't displayed many signs of a hangover besides the bags underneath his eyes, but he revealed to me on the bus to the subway station that he was, in fact, not a big drinker and that binge drinking like we had done last night affected him to a large extent. We parted ways with a final kiss as I headed towards the downtown area of the Maxville Metropolis and Warren headed home to wait until three o'clock. My meetings were rarely eventful or exciting; I considered them more like opportunities to dump and unload what had happened the previous week into a living, breathing person and watch them take notes. Maisa would give me advice on how to handle the flashbacks as well as give me a whole list of helpful strategies to combat PTSD and cope with what had happened to me. I had lived for so long trying to hide my secret from others that it was difficult for me to open up to a stranger at first, but Maisa grew on me and I became comfortable with her as well. This was another one of my progressions that I noted the most; my ability to become comfortable with those around me had increased tenfold and I was no longer feeling as self conscious about myself as I would have a month ago. This had all happened so fast and suddenly that I was surprised my reactions had progressed so far in a short period of time, but I felt that with someone like Warren by my side and people like Maisa and Layla it was going to be an easier road from here on out. Unfortunately, as soon as my session started, Maisa was telling me news that would force me to think about my past. Mike's court date had come up, and he had been found guilty – thanks to my mother who testified against him – and sentenced to serve his time at Maxville East General Maximum Security prison.

"The police phoned me about an hour ago Eleanor," Maisa revealed calmly, noticing my tension at the mention of my previous life. "Mike is being charged with first and third degree assault as well as battery – all with intent to cause bodily harm. He's looking at twenty five years in prison. The state thought you should know just to be informed – they told me it took them awhile to get to his case because of the crime rate in the Metropolis."

I didn't say anything, letting the words sizzle through me and regarding Maisa with wide eyes. I knew that this moment was going to come eventually, but I hadn't been looking forward to hearing about a current situation involving my previous life.

"O-okay," I let out a deep breath and tried to focus on one thing at a time – there was a ringing in my ears that didn't clear for a good five minutes until Maisa cleared her throat. Then, there was a large 'woosh' of air that released itself from my mouth as I regarded my psychiatrist desperately. I didn't know what to say – my mother had just been released and was out roaming free in the world, and even though I was still teetering on the fence about seeing her more frequently, I still wanted to go running to her. This whole situation was overwhelming and hearing about Mike after several weeks of keeping that subject dormant threw me off. I knew that someone had most likely told my mother, and in that moment all I could think about was her reaction. Would she have felt guilt? Would she have confessed to any of her own crimes that the police didn't already know about?

"They're not going to charge her, are they?" I questioned nervously. The last thing I needed was my mother to be locked up for good with a permanent stain on her record; I didn't want the correctional system to mess her up anymore than she already was especially after she had just gotten out.

"They would have done that previously," Maisa shook her head in affirmation, still regarding me with cautious eyes. "She served her court ordered rehabilitative time, so for her it's time to reconnect and rest."

Upon establishing that I didn't want speak about my mother any further, we continued on with the session like normal. I was asked about any recent events that had transpired in the last week, how my relations with my friends was going, how I was feeling at school and how me and Warren were doing – everything that could have covered my outside life. Then, she went on to ask if I had made any changes to my alcohol intake since the last time I had seen her, and if the recovery was still going as positive as it was from the last time I saw her. We talked about more coping methods to deal with the urges to drink, as well as replacement strategies and how I could always phone a hotline in the case I felt I needed to talk with someone besides Warren. The conversation moved to my life at home, and how I was adjusting to living alone. This had been a long talk that we'd been having since I had begun to see Maisa, as she was always insisting about the fact that I wasn't living with someone permanently and even with Warren there some nights, I was still alone other nights which meant I was at the risk of hurting myself or engaging in harmful behaviors. Still, I didn't display any symptoms of wanting to do so – nor did I wish to in all sincerity – so Maisa couldn't do more than simply express her concern.

"It seems like things are only going up from here," I assured her as I stepped out of her office at the end of the hour. "I feel safe – and I have someone who I can talk to now. It's not so bad when I'm not alone."

"You were never alone Eleanor," Maisa smiled reassuringly. "No one is."

"I know," I sniffled, pulling my sleeves further down my arms until they only allowed the tips of my fingers to peek out. "But I didn't see that before. Now I feel almost..."

I trailed off, uncertain as to where I was heading with my words and catching Maisa's questioning glance. I could hear Warren's unbelievably loud car engine on the street, and although I wanted so desperately to go and join the one person who mattered to me the most in this world in the vehicle I wanted to finish this conversation first. I was coming to terms with my past and acknowledging how I felt about it currently was important; my progress was incredible and I had a support system around me to allow me the capability to flourish. I was regaining my confidence and molding my place back into society again – I had been a blank face and a worthless place for so long that I had forgotten how much of a difference I could make. I had things to look forward to and people I could help – the opportunities were endless and I realized all of this now. It was no longer about my small house with my abusive stepfather and equally incoherent mother. Now it was about me and what I wanted to do with my life; I had control and a set of abilities that were worth more than healing domestic abuse wounds. I could contribute something and I most definitely mattered, which was something that Warren had helped me realize with his care and affection. Despite the manner in which we had become acquainted, there was an incredible bond between him and I that we both lived off of. To have someone whom I could share my fears and doubts and past experiences with was precious and rare; he knew what I had felt and because of that we were able to become closer. This was not someone who simply empathized with my situation and understood why I felt shitty – this was someone who had been through years of torture himself and had his father locked away as well. And yet, after all of this suffering, he and his mother had thrown themselves into my situation without a second thought to get me out of the hellhole I was living in. I owed a lot to them, but I also had to acknowledge the strength it took for me to make the phone call that changed everything, and the strength it took to continue to grow despite the traumatic experiences behind me. All of it took a gigantic amount of strength, and I had it. I wanted to make Maisa realize how I felt, and let her understand that I had come incredibly far from where I had started. She had only been with me for a small portion of my situation, but I knew that I was going to be able to accomplish whatever was ahead regardless of what challenges she felt were existent. I had traveled a long road so far, and I would never forget where I had come from. But now it was time for me to heal, and I had space to do that. I had the means and the people – I felt safe, at ease and calm again. I felt reinvigorated and confident – I recognized my worth. And the best part of all was that the terrible weight in my stomach had been lifted; whatever feelings had been sitting there for years were gone and had receded back into the pits of hell. My mind had stopped playing games with me and my chest felt clear once more – I could take a deep breath without worrying about the tightness that felt like it was surrounding my heart.

I was free both in my mind and my body.

"Like I can breathe," I admitted, nodding to myself and then catching my psychologist's smile as my eyes shone. "It feels like I can breathe."


End file.
